UPDS 


EDWARD  B.  LENT 


477C 


// 


CUPID'S  MIDDLEMAN 


CUPID  S   MIDDLEMAN. 


CUPID'S 
MIDDLEMAN 


BY 

EDWARD    B.  LENT 

AUTHOR  OF  "BEING  DONE  GOOD" 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
H.  B.  MATTHEWS 


NEW   YORK 

CUPPLES   &   LEON 


Copyright,  1906,  by 
CUPPLES   &   LEON 


To  MY  FRIEND, 
HERBERT  F.  GUNNISON, 

OF  THE 

BROOKLYN  EAGLE. 


21368G8 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

CUPID'S  MIDDLEMAN Frontispiece 

"WHY,  WHO  IN  THE  WORLD  COULD  HAVE  WRITTEN  THIS 

NONSENSE?"    LAUGHED   HYGEIA 214 

"YOU  ADVERTISE  ROOMS  FOR  LIGHT   HOUSEKEEPING".  .  .    238 

"I  WROTE  IT,  GABRIELLE — AND  FORGIVE  ME" 286 

"I  CAME  TO  APOLOGIZE  TO  YOU,  MR.  TESCHERON" 322 


PREFACE 

JOHN  ALDEN  was  a  celebrated  Cupid's  mid- 
dleman. In  presenting  the  cause  of  Miles 
Standish  to  Priscilla,  however,  he  did  not  attend 
strictly  to  business  as  a  jobber.  He  was  not  able 
to  resist  the  lady  when  she  asked:  "Why  don't 
you  speak  for  yourself,  John?"  That  famous 
question  has  practically  made  it  impossible  for 
the  middleman  to  make  much  headway  in  the 
assumed  part.  Benjamin  Hopkins,  of  Oswe- 
gatchie  County,  was  not  a  traitor — perhaps  be- 
cause he  never  met  the  fair  Priscillas  face  to 
face. 

This  story  can  teach  no  new  lesson ;  it  can  only 
recall  the  ancient  wisdom  which  filled  Miles 
Standish  when  it  was  too  late.  In  the  poem  by 
Longfellow,  the  Plymouth  Captain  says : 

ft  #     #     #     I  should  have  remembered  the  adage — 

If  you  would  be  well  served,  you  must  serve  yourself;  and 

moreover, 

No  man  can  gather  cherries  in  Kent  at  the  season  of  Christ- 
mas!" 

E.  B.  L. 


Cupid's  Middleman 


CHAPTER  I 

TT IM,  it's  years  since  you  asked  me  to  help 
-  I    you  out  in  a  love  affair,"  I  said.     "Has 
your  old  heart  grown  cold,  shriveled 
up,  or  what's  the  matter?" 

"You're  right,  Ben ;  it  must  be  a  long  time  back. 
But  why  don't  you  put  out  a  few  letters  for  your- 
self?" 

"I  wish  I  could  get  a  dollar  a  ton  for  all  I  have 
written  for  you,"  said  I ;  "then  I'd  have  a  fortune 
and  all  the  girls  would  be  chasing  me  for  my 
money." 

"Say,  was  it  as  bad  as  that,  do  you  think?" 
"Well,  cut  the  price  in  two  and  I'd  be  satisfied." 
"What  a  fool  I  was,  Ben,  to  let  you  trifle  with 
my  fair  friends  in  that  way !     You  came  near  put- 
ting me  in  a  terrible  hole  several  times." 

"Is  that  so?  You  never  said  anything  about 
it.  Tell  me  now." 


2          CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"Not  for  a  mansion  and  forty  servants  would 
I  tell  you.  Well,  I  should  say  not.  Nay !  Nay !" 
"I'll  bet  you  profited  by  my  efforts  and  you're 
not  willing  to  let  on.  Do  you  think  that  is  a 
friendly  attitude  to  take  toward  an  agent  who  has 
increased  the  range  of  your  powers  of  fascina- 
tion?" 

"You  came  near  increasing  the  length  of  my 
neck  by  several  inches.  Why,  the  fathers  and 
big  brothers  of  some  of  those  girls  you  wrote  to 
came  near  lynching  me." 

"Well,  I  wasn't  to  blame* for  that,  was  I?" 
"You  certainly  were.  You  laid  it  on  too  thick." 
"Not  too  thick  to  please  the  girls,  did  I  ?" 
"Suited  some  of  the  girls  first  rate,  but  it's  bad 
to  write  so  much.     It's  apt  to  come  back  at  you 
when  you  least  expect  it." 

"What  do  you  care  so  long  as  the  girls  were 
pleased  ?  You  were  not  courting  the  father.  If 
you  had  intended  to  have  the  old  gentleman  read 
them  I  could  easily  have  changed  the  style  from 
a  Grade  A  love  to  a  nice  assortment  of  short  busi- 
ness phrases.  But,  say,  Jim,  you  ought  to  tell 
me  what  happened.  Come,  now!  Any  bull's- 
eyes?" 

"Do  you  know  that  you  wrote  enough  letters  to 
my  girls  to  have  married  me  off  a  dozen  times  or 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN  3 

more?  There  are  some  streets  I  dare  not  pass 
through  now — there's  that  foolish  creature  in 
West  Thirty-eighth  Street,  for  example." 

I  knew  that  Jim  would  leak  a  little  if  persist- 
ently tapped  with  interrogations. 

"What  about  her?  Did  we  send  her  many  or 
was  she  easily  won?"  I  asked.  "Hard  or  soft?" 
As  the  middleman  it  was  purely  business  with  me. 

"That  girl  was  a  queer  case,"  said  Jim,  and  he 
reflected  for  a  moment.  "Why,  do  you  know, 
you  had  her  running  to  clairvoyants  for  advice. 
She  didn't  think  anything  of  putting  up  five  dol- 
lars to  learn  how  it  was  going  to  turn  out.  As 
soon  as  I  heard  that  I  quit  calling  and  shut  you 
off,  for  it  was  either  that  or  get  shot,  I  believed." 

"That's  quite  a  case,  Jim.  Let  me  into  all  of 
that,  won't  you?" 

"I'm  not  going  to  tell  you.  It's  past  now,  so 
let  it  go.  You  got  me  into  enough  trouble  to  fill 
a  book.  The  book  won't  be  written,  though,  for 
the  inside  story  dies  with  me." 

"Come,  come,  Jim ;  it's  not  fair  to  shut  me  out 
from  all  the  excitement  and  fun  after  I  did  all 
the  drudgery.  Think  how  I  used  to  struggle  here 
to  keep  up  my  end." 

"You  struggle !  Where  do  you  suppose  I  came 
in?  Still,  I'll  say  no  more  about  it,  for  I  see  you 


4          CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

are  trying  to  pump  me.  Let  it  pass.  How  do 
you  find  the  state  of  the  country  to-night?" 

Jim  swung  from  the  interesting  subject  to  my 
hobby,  political  economy  and  measures  for  saving 
the  nation  from  its  impending  doom.  A  man 
who  can't  make  much  headway  toward  home- 
building  before  or  after  marriage  usually  becomes 
a  reformer.  Men  with  families  take  things  as 
they  are,  if  they  live  at  home  instead  of  a  club,  and 
find  plenty  to  do.  I  could  not  be  moved  with- 
out a  protest. 

"Never  mind,  Jim,"  said  I.  "You  may  want 
me  to  help  you  out  some  day  and  I  shall  not  un- 
dertake to  handle  the  case  unless  it  is  clearly  stated 
in  the  contract  that  I  am  to  be  in  at  the  finish." 

"Agreed ;  Ben,  you  are  to  be  there." 

"Even  though  you're  going  to  be  lynched,  don't 
hesitate  to  send  for  me." 

"That'll  probably  be  the  finish,  if  I  give  my  se- 
crets away  to  you  again.  Still,  I  am  past  that 
now."  He  seemed  to  doubt  his  words,  however. 

"Hanging  or  wedding,  I'm  to  be  there — is  that 
agreed  ?" 

"You'll  be  the  best  man  in  any  event  and  you 
may  stand  just  as  close  as  the  minister  or  the 
mob  will  allow." 

I  could  see  that  he  was  in  a  good  humor  and 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN          5 

had  noticed  its  increasing  hold  upon  him  for  sev- 
eral weeks.  Such  a  fine  specimen  of  farm-bred 
manhood  as  Jim  Hosley  could  not  escape,  although 
he  had  kept  from  the  net  and  in  the  free  waters 
of  bachelorhood  until  he  was  thirty.  Six  feet  two 
inches,  broad-shouldered,  fair-haired,  and  as  rosy 
as  a  schoolboy,  he  seemed  born  to  remain  young 
and  handsome  always.  Well  do  I  remember  this 
conversation  now,  and  how  little  we  then  realized 
the  nature  of  the  fruitage  of  our  folly  which  we 
discussed  so  airily  that  evening  in  our  bachelor 
apartments  where  we  kept  house  together. 

I  regret  that  I  am  not  a  literary  man.  I  never 
corresponded  with  magazine  editors  without  pay- 
ing the  return  postage  and  therefore  I  am  not  in 
shape  to  put  in  the  soft  touches  where  they  be- 
long, and  I  am  also  aware  that  the  field  is  too  big 
for  me,  for  it  includes  the  heart  of  a  woman,  a 
domain  in  which  I  am  easily  lost,  although  I  did 
set  up  to  be  a  pilot  for  my  friend. 

As  for  my  own  matrimonial  prospects,  they 
were  dim.  I  really  cared  nothing  about  them,  for 
I  understood  I  was  such  a  small  potato  I  wouldn't 
be  noticed  for  seed,  and  there  seemed  poor  pros- 
pects for  me  to  ever  sprout  into  anything  that 
would  attract  attention  enough  to  draw  a  handful 
of  paris  green  and  plaster.  I  had  a  better  opinion 


6          CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

of  my  ideas  on  saving1  the  country,  however.  I 
found  a  lot  of  people  who  agreed  with  me  that 
the  country  was  going-  to  the  bad;  that  there 
wasn't  much  use  trying1  to  get  money  enough 
ahead  to  go  into  business,  because  if  you  did  you 
would  only  net  fresh  air  and  exercise  and  an 
appetite  that  would  cut  whale  oil  and  consume 
the  margin. 

Jim  found  it  an  easy  matter  to  turn  me  from 
prying  into  his  private  affairs.  I  had  just  been 
reading  my  paper.  "Shall  Autocrats  Rule  Us?" 
was  the  subject  of  the  editor's  heavy  work  for  the 
evening  and  it  stirred  me  up.  That  fellow  used 
"strong  and  powerful"  language,  as  our  dominie 
used  to  say  when  he  was  preaching  and  got  two 
feet  away  from  his  notes  on  the  pulpit  and  doubled 
on  his  tracks. 

"You  can  put  it  down  in  your  notebook,  Jim, 
that  I  say  the  country  is  in  a  bad  fix." 

"That's  right,  Ben,  and  unless  you  get  the  job 
of  mending  it,  no  George  Washington  will  ap- 
pear." 

"Listen  to  this,"  said  I,  paying  no  attention  to 
his  guying.  "  'Everywhere  the  voice  is  that  of 
Democracy,  but  the  hand  and  the  checkbook  are 
those  of  a  respectable  Autocracy.'  Isn't  that  so? 
Why,  when  I  had  ploughed  through  a  stack  of 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN          7 

those  magazines"  (and  I  pointed  to  our  parlor 
table  and  its  load  of  ten-cent  literature)  "I  burned 
two  fillings  of  the  lamp,  and  I  tell  you  I  had  to 
swallow  hard  on  a  lot  of  big  words  that  would 
have  kept  old  Webster  chasing  to  the  fellows  he 
stole  from;  I  wound  in  and  out  a  lot  of  trotting 
sentences  that  broke  twice  to  the  line  on  a  track 
that  was  laid  out  by  a  park  gardener  to  go  as  far 
as  possible  without  reaching  anywhere,  and  I 
fetched  up  this  morning  with  a  swelled  head, 
stuffed  full  of  cold-microbes  that  had  formed  a 
combine  from  the  nozzle  of  my  Adam's  apple 
clean  up  to  a  mass  of  chronic  gooseflesh  that  had 
crusted  on  the  top  of  my  crown  as  solid  as  if  it 
had  been  put  there  by  a  file-maker,  expert  in  per- 
manent pimpling — " 

"Yes,  I  noticed  them  when  you  were  at  break- 
fast this  morning,"  sniffed  Jim. 

'Why,  it's  no  joke,  Jim;  this  discussion  about 
the  country  will  wind  up  in  some  sort  of  a  revo- 
lution. I  have  been  talking  around  lately  among 
the  plain  people,  and  a  lot  of  them  declare  straight 
up  and  down  that  the  country  is  going  to  peter 
out  like  the  water  in  the  tap  here  in  our  fifth  flat 
when  I  am  completely  soaped  up  and  have  to 
stand  there  and  feel  it  crackle  and  dry  in  my  ears 
and  burn  me  blind.  Pretty  soon  those  people  who 


8          CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

read  my  paper,  say  the  prosperity  of  the  United 
States  will  slow  down  into  a  quiet  trickle,  then 
a  dribble  shading  off  into  a  blast  of  air  and  a 
maddening  gurgle,  while  folks  stick  their  heads 
out  the  window  and  swear  at  the  government  for 
not  giving  them  notice." 

"It's  an  awful  big  country  to  save,"  said  Jim. 
"Look  at  the  Prohibitionists." 

"Well,  Jim,  I  must  say  I  get  discouraged  when 
I  read  of  one  man  being  worth  a  thousand  mil- 
lion dollars.  It  makes  me  feel  mighty  poor.  I 
don't  see  any  use  in  being  ambitious  and  taking 
any  stock  at  all  in  anything  so  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned, but  I  do  hate  to  see  the  government  come 
to  harm.  I  get  to  thinking  that  if  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  isn't  going  to  hold  out  that 
I'll  change  my  politics  and  then  see  what  will 
happen.  When  a  fellow  who  is  as  set  in  his  ways 
as  I  am  changes  his  politics,  reform  must  be  com- 
ing, for  I  would  probably  be  the  last  man  to  flop." 

'If  you  could  stick  to  one  girl  the  way  you 
do  to  the  Republican  party,"  said  Jim,  "you  would 
soon  be  letting  the  country  go  to  blazes." 

I  could  see  that  he  was  inclined  toward  shallow 
conversation.  It  was  evident  that  he  had  more 
to  tell  me  than  he  dared  in  view  of  the  calamity 
which  had  followed  his  former  confidences.  I 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN  9 

said  nothing,  merely  making  note  of  his  mental 
condition.  I  was  not  through  with  the  country 
by  any  means.  It  was  best  to  pump  Jim  by  in- 
direct conversation. 

"It's  an  awful  thing  to  think  of  changing  your 
politics,"  I  continued.  "Why,  up  in  Oswegatchie 
County,  as  far  back  as  anybody  can  remember  or 
read  in  the  town  papers  on  file,  my  folks  have 
been  Republicans  and  have  been  honored  with 
office,  earned  good  salaries  and  some  of  the 
longest  obituary  poems  ever  penned  by  that  necro- 
logical  songbird,  Amelia  Benson." 

"She  sang  like  a  catbird  for  fifty  cents  a  col- 
umn," remarked  Jim. 

"Her  style  was  good  for  the  price  and  it  w'as 
preferred  because  it  never  struck  below  the  belt," 
I  added.  "Her  occasional  verse  was  a  trifle 
worse.  Don't  you  know  'The  Pain  Killer'  used 
to  be  full  of  it  when  advertisements  ran  low?" 

"I  always  liked  that  paper  in  your  town,"  said 
Jim — "for  shaving." 

Our  paper  was  called  "The  Pain  Killer"  down 
in  Jerusalem  Corners  and  other  distant  places 
when  it  was  so  full  of  stomach-bitters  advertise- 
ments that  the  news  of  the  week  had  to  be  left 
out  for  a  couple  of  issues  and  seemed  such  ridicu- 
lous reading  when  it  appeared,  especially  to  the 


10        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

sick  who  were  then  out  ploughing  and  the  parents 
of  the  babies  that  had  been  hinted  about  some 
time  before  and  were  then  swaddled,  exercising 
with  the  colic  and  ready  to  have  their  names  in 
print  as  among  those  present. 

Jim  had  an  important  engagement  and  dressed 
with  some  care  to  meet  what  was  evidently  a 
social  demand  of  consequence.  I  had  observed 
of  late  that  clothes  were  playing  a  greater  part 
in  his  society  drama.  It  seemed  to  me  he  must 
be  getting  close  to  a  leading  lady. 

The  conversation  ended  with  a  "Good-night" 
from  Jim  and  he  passed  out  leaving  me  to  ponder 
alone.  The  hermits  of  the  country  have  time  to 
consider  its  welfare,  so  I  went  to  reading  my 
magazines  to  gather  more  inspiration  for  de- 
nouncing the  United  States  Senate  and  the  rest 
of  the  rascals. 

The  railroads  are  to  blame.  I  hold  them  re- 
sponsible, for  one  of  them  brought  me  down  to 
New  York  ten  years  ago  on  a  ten-dollar  excur- 
sion ticket,  and  an  old  Sunday-school  teacher  of 
mine  who  had  seen  all  he  could  pay  for  here 
wanted  to  get  back,  so  he  made  me  an  offer  of 
five  dollars  for  the  return  half,  and  after  prac- 
ticing my  handwriting  for  a  spell  he  got  so  accu- 
rate he  could  write  my  name  about  as  well  as 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         11 

I  could,  in  case  the  conductor  cornered  him  and 
wanted  to  throw  him  off  into  the  Black  River. 
He  landed  home  all  right  and  nobody  was  the 
wiser.  Would  that  all  my  trickery  had  died  as 
gentle  a  death !  But  I  see  now  that  fooling  with 
another  fellow's  courtship  and  cheating  a  railroad 
are  different,  because  the  railroad  is  everybody's 
business  and  the  other  is  supposed  to  be  a  private 
affair.  Cheating  a  railroad  used  to  be  no  crime 
till  they  got  to  cheating  us  so  hard.  I  remember 
up  in  Oswegatchie  County  that  all  of  my  folks 
in  the  County  Clerk's  office  held  passes  and  sel- 
dom complained  about  the  railroad  robbing  us 
of  our  land,  so  that  five  dollars  taken  contrary 
to  the  contract  on  the  ticket  did  not  worry  me 
overmuch,  because  I  knew  my  dad  would  have 
closed  on  it  like  Jim  Jackson's  foot  always  acci- 
dentally trod  on  and  spiked  anything  that  rolled 
his  way  in  the  old  man's  store. 

Jim  Hosley  and  I,  two  bachelors  who  have  been 
down  here  in  this  great  metropolis  for  ten  years, 
looking  for  the  fortunes  we  always  hear  about  at 
the  annual  Waldorf  dinners  of  the  Oswegatchie 
County  Society  as  being  a  part  of  the  perquisites 
of  our  northern  tribe,  then  lived  together  in  a 
top  apartment  pretty  well  down-town,  conven- 
iently situated  five  flights  up  without  an  elevator 


12        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

and  the  same  number  back  on  the  turn  when  any- 
thing was  needed  from  the  corner  store.  Jim 
came  from  Gorley  and  I  from  Dazer  Falls.  The 
solitude  of  the  upper  air,  therefore,  suited  us.  A 
man  can  stand  for  five  hours  at  any  corner  in 
Dazer  Falls  and  shout  "Fire"  through  a  forty- 
inch  megaphone  without  starting  up  a  native. 
Dazer  Falls  is  a  study  in  village  still  life.  In 
Gorley  silence  and  race  suicide  are  equally  com- 
mon and  not  noticed  except  by  strangers.  Up 
in  the  fifth  flat  we  got  away  from  the  world 
almost  as  well,  except  that  the  clatter  of  our  dish- 
washing and  the  thumping  of  our  disagreeing 
opinions  would  at  times  sound  like  the  whirr  of 
industry,  for  Jim  and  I  did  our  own  housework, 
our  own  thinking  and  lived  as  cheaply  as  monop- 
oly will  permit  '(monopoly,  that  is  the  thing 
I  am  against  as  a  political  economist,  I  can  tell 
you).  The  pile  that  was  to  come  our  way  we 
had  not  yet  receipted  for.  Once  or  twice,  years 
before,  we  had  thought  we  were  getting  close  to 
it,  but  we  found  we'd  have  to  change  our  politics 
to  get  farther.  After  that  I  lost  all  personal 
ambition,  as  I  could  get  so  few  people  to  listen 
to  my  plans  for  making  everything  right.  These 
kickers  spent  all  their  time  kicking  against  monop- 
oly, but  wouldn't  let  me  show  them  how  to  slay 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         13 

it.  When  I  began  my  studies  along  this  line  I 
hesitated  whether  to  begin  war  near  the  top  with 
the  United  States  Senate  or  at  the  bottom  with 
the  poor  masses  in  the  slums.  Down  at  the  bot- 
tom I  would  be  more  at  home,  for  I  know  full 
well  what  it  is  to  be  bleached  by  the  blues  of 
adversity.  In  saving  the  masses  though,  by  a 
direct  appeal,  I  did  not  think  I  could  do  much 
to  brag  about  down  here,  for  they  don't  under- 
stand more  than  half  you  say  to  them  in  English 
and  their  suspicion  sours  the  half  they  take  in 
before  they  make  any  use  of  it.  This  would  have 
made  it  extra  hard  for  me,  because  advice  was 
all  I  had  to  use  in  saving  the  country.  Up  in 
the  United  States  Senate  I  used  to  think  I  might 
do  something,  but  it  was  such  a  long  way  up  from 
where  I  stood.  They  have  been  taking  tremen- 
dous fees  up  there  for  their  own  advice,  generally 
given  to  other  members  of  their  distinguished 
body  or  to  members  of  their  own  State  legisla- 
tures, as  to  how  to  vote  wisely  on  this  or  that 
piece  of  law  ordered  by  their  clients.  Therefore, 
it  seemed  to  me  it  would  be  only  reasonable  for 
them  to  take  my  advice,  as  they  might  be  able  to 
turn  it  over  at  a  good  figure  a  little  later  on  when 
the  custom-made  law  business  picked  up  again. 
Just  now  I  don't  suppose  they  could  do  much  with 


14 

it,  for  most  of  those  old  codgers  are  as  glum  as  a 
funeral  march;  but,  of  course,  I  admit  I  am  no 
judge  of  chin  music  and  could  not  understand 
what  they  said,  probably,  if  they  spoke. 

I  want  to  state  right  here,  though,  that  it  is  a 
mistake  for  a  man  to  undertake  to  save  the  coun- 
try ancl  to  have  ideas  on  that  subject  when  he 
tries  to  help  another  fellow  win  the  heart  of  a 
girl  and  gets  mixed  up  in  the  tangle  that  such 
interference  is  bound  to  bring  on  anybody  who 
attempts  it.  I  didn't  know,  and  therefore  I 
should  have  thrown  up  the  job  as  soon  as  I  began 
to  get  wound  in  it.  You  have  heard  that  gentle 
hum  of  the  buzz-saw?  You  have  seen  how  still 
it  runs  and  how  its  feathery  edge  seems  calm  dur- 
ing the  lull  in  the  sawmill?  You  also  noticed 
that  no  one  who  understands  the  sawmill  business 
ever  goes  near  it  to  give  it  a  friendly  tap  just 
when  it  is  looking  that  way?  It  is  the  same  with 
the  other  fellow's  love  affairs.  Leave  them  alone 
when  all  is  quiet,  and  when  there  are  ructions 
leave  them  alone.  They  are  buzz-saws  for 
theorists.  A  man  with  ideas  on  saving  the  coun- 
try is  the  poorest  man  in  the  world  to  undertake 
to  help  save  a  friend  with  a  sick  heart.  The 
little  matter  of  the  country  is  a  cinch  compared 
to  that  job.  Why,  the  little  matter  of  stringing 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN         15 

a  few  extra  stars  to  make  traveling  at  night  safer 
on  the  Milky  Way  would  be  an  easy  contract 
compared  to  that.  But  I  touched  the  saw  and 
it  certainly  did  cut  off  a  lot  of  opinions  I  used 
to  be  proud  of. 

Jim  and  I  had  a  habit  of  going  over  the  sad 
state  of  the  country  pretty  thoroughly  during 
our  leisure  moments  in  the  evening.  There  were 
chairs  in  our  parlor  that  fitted  us  to  a  dot.  They 
were  seldom  if  ever  dusted,  unless  they  were  acci- 
dentally turned  over  and  then  some  would  fall  off, 
but  no  one  ever  'disturbed  them  and  ruffled  them 
into  hard  knots  just  to  improve  their  appearance. 
We  sat  on  the  chairs,  not  on  their  appearance. 
During  our  talks  Jim  did  the  listening.  This 
constituted  a  de  facto  conversation.  His  knowl- 
edge of  Gorley  and  up-State  affairs,  after  an  ab- 
sence of  ten  years,  was  well  maintained  by  regu- 
larly reading  the  county  papers,  but  his  knowledge 
of  monopoly  and  our  foreign  affairs  came  wholly 
from  me  while  we  would  sit  and  cure  the  air  of 
our  front  room  with  our  smoking  corncobs.  And 
dad,  who  used  them  in  his  smokehouse,  used  to 
say  they  beat  sawdust  for  flavor.  We  mixed  a 
little  short-cut  tobacco  to  sweeten  the  cob.  This 
was  not  our  ideal  way  of  spending  the  evening, 
for  we  had  a  Perfecto  ambition.  For  ten  years, 


16        CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

though,  we  had  been  gradually  squeezing  our- 
selves to  fit  circumstances  and  had  come  to  realize 
that  the  pipe  and  kerosene  oil  are  the  cheapest 
fuel  and  light  the  trusts  offer  in  New  York.  A  gal- 
lon of  oil  a  week,  a  pound  of  tobacco  and  seven 
scuttles  of  coal  stood  us  in  for  our  quota  of  com- 
fort, and  as  we  paid  our  humble  tributes  to  the 
concerns  that  had  cornered  these  articles  we  were 
happy  in  the  thought  that  it  wasn't  as  bad  as  it 
might  be.  They  had  not  yet  cornered  the  air 
necessary  to  oxidize  these  commodities,  although 
they  fia9  tfie  connecting  link,  the  match,  and 
would  no  clouHt  soon  get  the  air. 

We  percfiecf  tfiere  in  tfie  top  Hat  after  a  long 
trial  o'f  tfie  abnormalities  of  boarding-house  life. 
I  heard  them  called  that  once  and  it  seemed  to 
me  that  it  fitted.  We  were  fairly  cosy,  although, 
as  I  have  hinted,  there  was  nothing  over-ornate 
about  the  furnishings.  No  woman  had  ever  seen 
the  place  and  therefore  our  ideas  as  to  keeping  it 
always  tfie  same  were  never  disturbed,  and  it 
had  never  been  spoken  ill  of.  In  the  winter  we 
kept  house  with  more  system  than  we  did  in  the 
summer,  when  dish-washing  became  too  much 
of  a  burden  and  appetite  dwindled  to  chipped  beef 
and  angel  cake,  two  simple  things  to  serve.  We 
got  fagged  out  in  this  climate  in  the  summer,  and 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN        17 

if  you  had  been  born  in  Oswegatchie  County, 
where  forty  degrees  below  zero  is  as  common  as 
at  the  North  Pole,  and  had  then  lived  up  there 
beneath  the  roof  of  that  flat,  you  would  under- 
stand. In  all  our  wanderings  through  the  art 
galleries  and  the  comic  papers  we  had  never  found 
an  artist  who  could  draw  the  sun  like  that  tin  roof. 

Jim  was  almost  as  much  interested  as  I  was  in 
having  no  harm  come  to  the  government,  but  not 
quite.  We  both  worked  for  the  city,  holding  civil 
service  jobs.  His  was  only  a  small  city  job,  that 
of  Sealer  of  Weights  and  Measures,  while  I  was 
connected  with  the  Department  of  Health  as  an 
Inspector  of  Offensive  Trades,  with  more  pay  to 
offset  the  larger  responsibilities. 

Jim  once  asked  me  what  I  did  and  I  explained 
it  this  way : 

"An  Inspector  of  Offensive  Trades  must  have 
a  nose  as  delicately  trained  as  a  Sousa's  ear,  so 
that  when  a  blast  from  the  full  olfactory  orches- 
tra rolls  up  from  Newtown  Creek  and  its  stupe- 
fying vibrations  are  wafted  on  the  fog  billows 
driven  by  a  gusty  east  wind  toward  the  Depart- 
ment of  Health,  he  can  detect  strains  of  the  glue 
hoofs  quite  independently  of  the  abattoir's  offal 
bass,  and  tell  at  a  sniff  if  discord  breathes  from 
the  settling  tanks  of  the  fish  factory  or  if  the 


aroma  of  the  fertilizer  grinder  is  two  notes  below 
standard  pitch  as  established  by  the  officials  to 
meet  the  approval  of  the  sensitive  ladies  of  the 
civic  smelling  committees." 

You  can  see  that  my  work  called  for  a  peculiar 
kind  of  brains. 

Jim,  in  those  days,  went  around  to  the  grocery 
stores  and  made  sure  that  the  scales  were  in  work- 
ing order  and  that  the  weights  balanced  with  the 
official  weights  he  carried  in  a  small  bag.  If  he 
found  a  groceryman  using  weights  that  had  been 
bored  out  to  make  them  lighter  he  made  an  arrest 
and  usually  laid  off  for  two  days  because  he  had 
to  be  a  witness  against  the  prisoner  at  court.  He 
took  these  vacations  at  regular  intervals,  about 
twice  a  month,  so  I  figured  he  did  not  pounce 
down  on  a  man  as  soon  as  he  found  him  giving 
short  weight,  but  saved  those  desirable  cases  for 
use  at  regular  periods  when  he  required  rest  with 
a  day  or  two  at  home. 

Jim  was  not  lazy,  but  he  was  not  so  spry  as 
he  was  ten  years  ago  when  he  was  fresh  from 
playing  full-back  on  our  scrub  team.  For  a  num- 
ber of  years  he  had  been  tramping  around  out- 
doors all  day  and  had  been  inclined  to  play  full 
front  on  the  gastronomic  flying  wedge  at  the  res- 
taurants, where  we  commuted  for  our  meals  as 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         19 

long  as  we  could  stand  it  before  taking  up  the 
primitive  notions  of  the  culinary  art  practiced  in 
our  own  kitchen.  Our  cooking  became  very  sim- 
ple. After  we  tackled  making  fried  cakes  and 
both  went  to  bed  with  headaches  from  the  cotton- 
seed oil,  I  asked  Jim  to  take  what  we  had  turned 
out  to  a  neighboring  machine  shop  and  see  if  they 
didn't  want  some  three-inch  washers  for  locomo- 
tive work. 

The  farmer  and  the  manicure  artist  have  dis- 
covered the  same  law  of  compensation.  If  a  man 
has  a  big  ear  he  may  have  only  a  little  corn.  With 
Jim  it  was  about  the  same.  He  chased  short- 
weight  fellows  all  day  and  when  it  came  night  he 
piled  on  all  the  weight  he  could  just  to  lift  himself 
out  of  the  under-weight  rut  of  the  day's  work. 
Fat  kept  Jim  sociable — I  don't  mean  that  he  was 
portly,  but  he  was  filled  out  well  over  the  angles 
of  youth.  This  was  desirable,  because  a  lean  bach- 
elor can't  live  with  another  lean  one.  I  don't 
know  why,  except  it's  Nature's  law.  He  hyenas 
in  the  same  cage  act  the  same  way. 

Before  Jim  started  in  to  take  on  weight  he 
had  been  passing  through  quite  a  long  corre- 
spondence with  a  young  woman,  and  it  was  so 
long  that  I  began  to  give  out  on  poetry  and  was 
thinking  of  laying  in  more  stock  in  that  line  to 


20        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

drive  the  arrow  home  to  a  finish.  Jim  had  never 
done  any  courting  without  consulting  me.  I  at- 
tended to  the  correspondence  and  rather  liked  my 
job,  because  it  gave  me  experience  that  might  be 
useful.  Now  that  it  is  all  over,  of  course,  I  know 
better — I  look  the  other  way. 

At  the  time  we  were  very  busy  in  one  of  these 
affairs,  I  remember,  Jim  was  blue-eared,  ragged- 
nerved  and  petulant  to  such  a  degree  that  I  began 
to  think  of  shipping  him  back  to  the  old  farm, 
where  pork  gravy  and  fried  cakes  would  certainly 
restore  his  nervous  system ;  otherwise  I  felt  he 
would  land  in  a  padded  cell.  Nothing  he  ate 
agreed  with  him  and  I  felt  sure  it  must  be  a  bad 
case  of  unrequited  love.  He  looked  sour  upon 
all  the  world,  mistaking  me  most  of  the  time  for 
the  man  who  ran  it.  We  were  both  on  the  point 
of  getting  a  divorce  when  he  began  to  take  a 
bottle  of  ale  regularly  at  dinner.  The  first  week 
Jim  mounted  a  pound  a  day  and  we  were  both 
overjoyed  to  note  the  improvement  in  our  rela- 
tions which  the  ugly  co-respondent  (did  you  ever 
see  a  co-respondent  that  wasn't  ugly?)  had  threat- 
ened to  disturb  with  the  Dakota  chills. 

The  remedy  proved  it  was  not  a  girl  who  both- 
ered him.  For  a  long  time  after  when  Jim  felt 
nervous  I  would  recommend  ale.  I  did  not  be- 


lieve  it  was  possible  for  a  woman  to  disturb  him, 
but  I  was  wrong  again. 

When  Jim  had  returned  two  cases  of  empties 
we  were  on  thoroughly  good  terms  again.  Of 
course  we  are  glad  he  tried  the  ale,  but  if  we 
had  parted  then  and  there  we  might  have  saved 
ourselves  a  lot  of  trouble.  The  small  amount 
the  junk  man  would  have  paid  for  our  outfit 
might  have  been  better  than  what  we  netted. 


CHAPTER  II 

t 

ANY  man  who  knows  the  first  thing  about 
housekeeping,  who  has  gone  deep  enough 
into  it  to  bring  in  wood  or  light  a  lamp, 
ought  to  know  that  the  upper  story  of  a  double 
boiler  is  not  the  thing  to  fry  eggs  in.  How  any 
man  with  the  faintest  glimmering  of  a  suspicion 
that  he  can  cook  an  egg  should  hit  upon  a  tool  as 
unhandy  as  that,  is  beyond  me.  A  double  boiler 
is  a  telescopic  arrangement  used  by  first-class 
cooks  for  boiled  puddings.  I  understand  that 
they  prefer  them  because  the  raisins  do  not  get 
frightened  and  all  huddled  up  at  the  bottom  try- 
ing to  escape,  like  they  do  if  boiled  in  the  New 
England  fashion  in  a  towel.  Jim  Hosley  knew 
nothing  of  this,  never  having  read  the  Gentle- 
man's Home  Journal  to  any  extent.  One  night 
when  I  came  in — one  of  the  big  nights  in  our  his- 
tory, all  right — I  found  him  frying  two  eggs  with 
this  back-handed  device.  Of  course  it  made  no 
difference  to  me  if  he  fried  them  right  on  the  coals 

22 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         23 

and  lost  everything  except  the  fun  of  doing  it; 
at  the  same  time  I  felt  called  upon  to  point  out 
the  skillet  as  the  appropriate  kitchen  furniture  for 
the  occasion.  It  was  certainly  a  peculiar  notion 
and  hinted  to  me  that  another  woman  had  arrived 
and  would  soon  be  everywhere  in  that  flat. 

"Jim,  you  don't  know  enough  about  frying 
eggs,"  said  I,  "to  deserve  them  at  six  for  a  quar- 
ter. You  ought  to  eat  canned  goods  or  something 
you  can't  damage  by  fire." 

"This  thing  suits  me  better  than  your  flat  pan," 
said  he.  "You  see  how  I  can  take  off  the  lid  and 
jam  it  right  down  on  the  coals  and  have  it  all  over 
while  you  are  waiting  to  warm  up  on  top.  Never 
used  to  cook  eggs  up  home — always  sucked  them ; 
down  here,  been  pulling  at  this  pipe  so  long,  or 
eating  brass  goods  in  the  restaurants,  I  seem  to 
have  lost  the  liking  for  them.  Tried  them  when  up 
there  last  summer,  but  it  warn't  no  use;  they 
didn't  taste  the  same." 

"Same  with  me,"  I  sadly  admitted,  with  my 
mind  on  the  girl.  "There  didn't  seem  to  be 
enough  nicotine  in  them  to  suit." 

"Ben,  chase  yourself  and  find  the  pepper  and 
salt,  and  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  whose  funeral 
it  is  down-stairs  to-night,"  interrupted  Jim, 
changing  the  subject, 


m        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN! 

"I  didn't  know  there  was  one,"  said  I.  "How 
far  down  is  it?" 

"One  flight." 

"Think  of  that,"  said  I.  "When  the  world 
gets  crowded  it  seems  to  grow  careless  and  un- 
neighborly.  We  don't  either  of  us  know  who 
lives  there,  and  here  we  have  been  coming  and 
going  for  about  three  years  in  this  place.  Still, 
we  are  only  here  nights.  Yet  it's  a  strange  world. 
Think  of  living  within  ten  feet  of  anybody  in 
Osweg'atchie  County  and  not  knowing  them — es- 
pecially if  they  have  a  vote." 

"It  is  a  queer  place  here  in  New  York,"  said 
Jim,  quietly.  "It  keeps  getting  busier  all  the 
time.  Even  the  women  hustle."  I  think  now  he 
sighed  there,  but  I  am  not  certain.  "We  don't 
get  time  to  get  acquainted  with  ourselves,  let  alone 
our  neighbors  ten  feet  away.  A  man  might  have 
his  own  funeral  here  and  never  know  it.  Never 
thought  I'd  have  to  live  in  such  a  place,"  he  con- 
tinued. "This  will  be  a  lonesome  world  when 
there  are  no  country  folks." 

"Jim,  you're  getting  to  be  a  philosopher,"  said 
I.  "In  you  that  is  a  sure  sign  a  woman's  picture 
is  focusing  on  your  brain.  I've  never  known  you 
to  drop  into  sentiment  while  using  the  double 
boiler.  Is  it  that  girl  down-town?"  (I  had 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN        25 

heard  her  name  from  others,  Gabrielle  Tescheron, 
for  I  kept  close  watch  of  him,  but  he  did  not  know 
that  I  knew  it.)  "You  know  the  one  I  mean — 
the  girl  who  sticks  her  tongue  out  to  straighten 
her  veil." 

"No,  no,"  said  Jim,  laughing.  "I  made  it  plain 
to  her  that  she'd  have  to  marry  both  of  us." 

"A  kind  of  matrimonial  sandwich,  eh?  But 
say,  Jim,  come  to  think  of  it,  I  have  heard  you 
tell  several  times  lately  just  what  bad  weather  we 
have  been  having  on  Sundays  for  the  past  three 
months.  It's  a  clincher.  No  ?" 

Jim  began  to  pound  the  bottom  of  the  inverted 
boiler  with  the  lid  lifter  to  secure  a  release  of  the 
eggs,  which  he  earnestly  hoped  would  let  go  and 
land  on  the  plate. 

"Did  you  grease  that  thing?"  I  asked,  as  he 
tum-tummed  in  vain,  for  the  eggs  had  glued  into 
a  fresco  showing  a  rising  and  setting  sun  on  oppo- 
site sides  of  the  bottom. 

"No;  didn't  know  where  you  kept  the  grease. 
What  would  you  recommend  in  a  case  of  this 
kind?" 

But  before  I  could  advise,  Jim  had  made  fair 
headway  in  transferring  the  eggs  directly  without 
the  intervention  of  a  plate,  an  economy  we  prac- 
ticed frequently.  The  meal  was  served  in  the 


26        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

kitchen  to  save  steps  and  progressed  with  custom- 
ary smoothness,  each  getting  up  a  dozen  times  or 
so  to  bring  things  from  the  shelves  or  the  stove. 
While  we  were  slicking  up  the  dishes  I  got  to 
chuckling  and  Jim  began  to  blush  and  look  fool- 
ish. I  could  see  that  he  knew  I  had  found  him 
out.  We  made  short  work  of  the  chores.  I 
wound  the  alarm  clock  and  sent  down  the  milk 
bottle  via  the  dumb  waiter,  which  you  can't  tip 
with  a  dime,  but  have  to  push  or  pull  clean  to  or 
from  the  cellar,  unless  it  happens  to  be  en  route 
just  as  you  get  there  and  can  chuck  your  load 
aboard. 

We  then  stretched  out  in  the  cosy  front  room, 
and  lighting  our  pipes  warmed  to  the  task  of  be- 
ing comfortable.  I  was  pained  to  feel  that  the 
day  must  come  when  woman  would  part  us,  but 
I  said  nothing  more,  determined  to  let  time  and 
Jim's  confiding  nature  reveal  the  tender  secrets 
of  his  heart  now  melting  for  that  girl  with  the 
dancing  brown  eyes,  the  mass  of  filmy  dark  hair 
straying  in  wisps  from  a  harness  of  braid,  ribbon 
and  pins,  to  Jim's  utter  distraction  and  the  poor 
girl's  despair. 

All  my  efforts  in  Jim's  behalf  had  been  lost  ap- 
parently, or  Jim,  having  won  the  prizes  in  each 
case,  became  disenchanted  for  one  reason  or  an- 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN        27 

other.  Perhaps  like  my  love  letters,  the  girls 
were  works  of  art  and  would  not  bear  too  close 
an  inspection.  The  coming  case  would  make  one 
more  failure,  I  imagined;  still,  I  was  sorry  I  had 
remarked  how  she  had  coaxed  her  veil  into  shape; 
but  with  that  wanton  hair,  a  hat  which  was  a 
department  to  manage  in  itself,  a  tailor-made 
primness  of  figure  to  superintend  and  the  curva- 
tures of  Jim's  conversation  to  follow,  I  could  un- 
derstand that  she  needed  the  help  of  all  her  senses 
to  keep  her  pretty,  light-hearted  poise.  I  sighed 
to  think  of  the  trouble  in  store  for  Mrs.  Jim, 
not  in  the  least  knowing  what  a  remarkable 
woman  she  was ;  in  my  estimation  of  her  at  that 
time  I  think  I  was  about  as  far  off  the  track  as  I 
got  at  any  subsequent  turn, 

Jim  had  been  uninterested  so  long  '(nearly  three 
years),  I  felt  love  was  now  a  proposition  which 
wouldn't  find  a  crevice  in  his  heart  to  trickle  into 
and  widen  until  it  split  him  asunder.  But  with 
the  clever  young  woman  of  business,  in  the  rush 
and  turmoil  of  the  down-town  hustle,  it  is  such 
a  gentle  humidity  it  seems  to  work  its  corrosion 
unseen  in  the  broad  daylight.  Thermometer  read- 
ings don't  show  it.  You  have  to  keep  close  to 
the  barometer  of  eyes  and  sighs  to  know  anything 
definite  of  its  ups  and  downs — unless  it  passes  into 


28        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

fog  or  pours,  then  everybody  can  see  it  dropping 
through  the  air.  I  began  to  feel  that  it  would 
pour  soon  around  Jim,  and  I  shuddered,  for  I 
thought  I  already  heard  the  patter  of  light  feet 
in  the  hall.  Some  of  the  gray  poetry  of  loneli- 
ness began  to  spread  around  my  disturbed  and 
anxious  soul  for  fear  no  drippings  like  that  would 
ever  fall  on  me.  Race  suicide  conscientiously 
practiced  is  a  hard  game.  Nature  abhors  a 
vacuum,  and  especially  human  nature.  Perhaps 
this  girl  had  a  sister.  A  comfortable  introspec- 
tion began  to  take  the  contract  of  illuminating  my 
mind.  Agreeable  family  scenery  was  thrown 
around  by  the  magic  of  the  thought.  It  scattered 
about  six  kids  for  Jim  and  the  same-sized  bunch 
for  me — enough  to  prove  that  human  nature  ab- 
hors the  inter-marrying  of  men  as  Jim  and  I  had 
tried  it. 

We  naturally  drifted  away  from  the  subject  we 
were  both  thinking  about  and  got  around  to  talk- 
ing on  old  home  matters — the  day's  doings  and 
the  state  of  the  country;  graft,  buying  and  selling 
law,  and  what  it  all  had  to  do  with  harming  the 
government  and  the  likelihood  of  losing  our  jobs. 

It  was  about  8 130  o'clock  as  near  as  I  can  re- 
member, when  a  timid  knock  on  the  front  door 
startled  both  of  us.  I  answered  the  call,  expect- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         29 

ing  to  find  that  fairy  Miss  Tescheron  ready  to  pop 
in  and  oust  me  like  a  Republican  hold-over  on 
a  Tammany  Happy  New  Year's.  I  peeped  out 
as  charily  as  a  jailer.  The  dim  light  revealed  a 
tiny  messenger  boy — something  awful  had  prob- 
ably happened  up  homeJ  A  messenger  boy  was 
enough  to  startle  both  of  us,  for  no  one  in  the 
world  would  spend  half  a  dollar  to  tell  us  any- 
thing unless  they  were  scared  into  it.  I  swung 
the  door  open  and  the  boy  took  off  his  cap  and 
removed  from  its  sweat-band  stronghold  a  neat- 
looking  note. 

"Say,  boss,  Hoes  Mr.  Benjamin  Hopkins  live 
up  here?"  he  asked  between  breaths,  for  the  five 
flights  had  tuckered  him. 

"That's  me,"  said  I,  reaching  for  the  note  and 
carefully  scanning  the  typewritten  address,  for 
upon  second  thought  I  believed  love  and  not  fright 
might  have  sent  a  note  to  Jim.  But  it  was  for 
me.  so  I  opened  it  and  leaning  toward  the  lamp 
read  in  diplomatically  suppressed  wonder: 

"Mr.  Benjamin  Hopkins, 

"97  East  Eighteenth  Street,  New  York". 
"Dear  Sir:     Do  not  mention  this  matter  to 
Hosley,  but  I  wish  to  see  you  at  once  at  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel.    I  have  instructed  the  clerk  to 


30         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

send  you  to  my  room  immediately.     Please  come 
right  away,  as  the  matter  cannot  wait." 
"Yours  truly, 

"ALBERT  TESCHERON." 

"Her  pa,"  thought  I;  but  I  didn't  let  on.  A 
stale  actor  in  a  play  couldn't  have  pulled  himself 
together  in  a  more  unconcerned-I-do-this-every- 
night  fashion  than  I  signed  for  the  note,  tipped 
the  poor  little  shaver  and  closed  the  door. 

Jim  eyed  me  in  surprise,  but  it  was  nothing  to 
my  own  astonishment.  What  did  old  Tescheron 
want  of  me  ?  No  matter. 

"Jim,  I've  got  to  run  up-town  for  a  few  min- 
utes about  some  work,"  was  the  wording  of  my 
deception,  eased  by  the  thought  that  it  was  in 
his  behalf.  I  slipped  on  my  hat  and  coat  and 
started  for  the  door,  taking  in  at  a  glance  that 
Jim  was  smoking  hard  and  squirming  uneasily. 


CHAPTER  III 

ONE  thing  I  liked  about  Tescheron — he 
talked  business  from  the  start.  He 
jumped  into  it  at  once,  so  that  I  had  no 
time  to  take  notice  of  anything  except  that  he 
talked  without  an  accent,  was  probably  French 
only  in  name  and  that  he  wore  clothes  which  were 
superfine.  I  never  saw  such  a  dresser  for  a  man 
with  iron-gray  hair  and  fifty-five  years  to  con- 
tend against  in  the  youth-preserving  business, 
which  I  calculated  was  one  of  his  pleasures  in 
life,  if  not  his  vocation.  Nothing  I  figured  on 
coming  up-town  happened  except  that  I  found  my 
man.  A  sixty-year  old  boy  brought  me  to  the 
room  on  the  third  floor. 

I  could  see  that  Mr.  Tescheron  was  a  whole 
encyclopedia  on  manners,  but  he  gave  me  the 
paper-covered  digest  which  retails  for  ten  cents, 
and  began: 

"Hope  I  reached  you  just  at  the  close  of  the 
funeral." 

31 


32        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"What  funeral?"  I  asked. 

"Say,  see  here,  Hopkins,  I  want  you  to  talk 
fair  and  square  with  me — no  nonsense,  you  under- 
stand. You  know  of  the  funeral — Mrs.  Brown- 
ing's— and  if  you  weren't  there  you  know  when 
it  was  over  and  when  Hosley  returned.  I  am 
pretty  hot  in  the  collar  over  this  business;  all 
happened  right  under  my  nose ;  never  thought  of 
such  a  thing  happening;  but  I'm  not  too  late  to 
stop  this  infernal  impostor,  not  too  late!  Of 
course  you  don't  know  anything  about  my  end 
of  it,  Hopkins,  and  I  know  that  you,  too,  have 
been  fooled  at  your  end,  for  I've  looked  you  up. 
I  have  reports  from  a  dozen,  business  men  who  say 
you  are  perfectly  square  and  that  is  why  I  send 
for  you  now  that  we  may  work  together  and  make 
the  greatest  headway.  Do  you  know  that  the 
scoundrel  Hosley  has  become  infatuated  with  my 
daughter? — a  pretense  for  criminal  purposes,  of 
course.  To-day  he  seeks  me  out  to  tell  me  they 
are  engaged!  A  few  hours  later  I  hear  he  is 
crying  at  the  funeral  of  his  wife!" 

There  was  some  French  in  Tescheron  after  all, 
for  he  waved  his  arms  and  danced  about  like  a 
man  whose  tongue  won't  wag  fast  enough  to 
please  him. 

If  Jim  had  dealt  with  large  business  concerns 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN        33 

as  an  inspector,  instead  of  corner  grocerymen  and 
small  storekeepers,  they  might  have  saved  him. 
The  business  men  whom  Tescheron  had  consulted 
regarding  me,  I  afterward  learned,  were  the  man- 
ufacturers whose  plants  I  had  investigated  for  the 
city.  Some  of  the  best  families  in  New  York  are 
connected  with  Newtown  Creek  glue  and  they,  it 
seems,  had  stuck  to  me  in  this  emergency.  A  fish 
man  will  believe  anything  a  glue  man  tells  him; 
I  don't  know  why,  but  it's  so,  and  the  fact  was 
certainly  to  my  advantage. 

When  Tescheron  had  calmed  I  broke  out  with 
a  hiss  and  a  stutter;  it  wasn't  a  laugh,  for  I 
haven't  laughed  in  years.  All  my  laughing  since 
1889  has  been  a  strictly  intellectual  process;  but 
I  did  have  an  awful  pain  because  I  could  not 
digest  his  statement  with  a  bouncing  laugh.  All 
I  could  do  was  to  stammer  and  splutter  like  a 
bass  viol  tuning  up,  while  I  sozzled  around  in  my 
chair  trying'  to  break  in  with  something  that 
would  count.  Why  should  a  man  of  my  tempera- 
ment take  a  hand  in  love,  war  or  diplomacy?  As 
a  theoretical  manipulator  of  fathers-in-law,  as  a 
text-book  writer  on  the  subject,  I  was  in  the  extra 
fancy  class,  but  the  part  of  Daniel  in  the  lion's 
den  could  not  be  played  by  me  unless  I  agreed  to 
step  in  the  marble-lined  vestibule  of  open  jaws  and 


34        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

get  kicked  down  the  back  stairs  after  a  thorough 
overhauling.  On  the  firing  line  my  plans  did  not 
fit  and  I  became  a  failure. 

A  smell  of  fish  in  the  room  restored  me.  I 
knew  not  whence  it  came,  but  its  soft  presence 
yielding  to  my  keen  detector  restored  my  pro- 
fessional pride  and  self-respect.  I  then  felt  I  was 
something  of  a  detective  after  all.  I  eyed  a  re- 
volving ventilator  in  the  window-pane  as  a  pos- 
sible avenue  of  its  entrance  from  the  culinary  de- 
partment. I  did  not  suspect  Tescheron. 

"I  see  you  are  not  inclined  to  side  with  me  in 
this  matter,"  he  rattled  on.  "To-night  I  notify 
the  coroner.  I — " 

"Are  you  a  fool  ?"  I  blurted  with  that  rare  pres- 
ence of  mind  which  will  some  day  save  me  by  put- 
ting me  in  jail.  "Are  you  an  idiot?  You  seem 
to  be  gone  in  the  head.  Call  a  dozen  coroners,  by 
all  means,  and  be  the  laughing-stock  of  the  town. 
Drag  your  whole  family  into  the  illustrated  news- 
papers. Go  ahead  and  have  a  good  time  at  your 
own  expense.  Get  out  the  fire  department  and 
have  them  squirt  on  you!"  I  was  surprised  at 
the  string  of  sarcasm  which  rolled  forth  when  I 
did  start. 

Tescheron  danced  a  first-class  vaudeville  turn 
and  shouted :  "Say  what  you  please,  I  notify  the 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN         35 

coroner!  Hosley  killed  his  wife  so  that  he  might 
marry  my  daughter;  I  have  had  detectives  out,  so 
I  know  and  you  don't.  I — " 

"How  long  have  you  had  them  out  ?" 
"Since  two  o'clock  to-day — soon  as  he  left  me." 
"Since  two  o'clock  to-day,  eh?    And  what  did 
you  have  against  Mr.  Hosley  before  that  hour, 
pray?" 

"Oh,  nothing  except  a  strong  personal  dislike 
to  him — but  I  have  enough  against  him  now;  I 
have  enough  now!  I  had  told  him  he  was  too 
old ;  that  he  had  done  nothing  to  merit  her — just 
to  gain  time,  you  see.  I  wanted  time  to  find  out ; 
to  look  him  over  with  care ;  with  the  same  precau- 
tion I  would  use  in  a  cold  matter  of  business.  It 
was  well  I  did;  it's  a  mighty  good  thing  I  used 
my  business  sense  in  this  matter.  You  see,  you 
are  no  man  of  business.  You — " 

'Well,"  said  I  with  a  calmness  affected  to  ag- 
gravate the  man  who  was  sure,  "you  couldn't  have 
hired  a  better  lot  of  men.  They  pass  you  out  Jim 
Hosley,  married,  and  a  widower  by  murdering  his 
wife,  and  have  him  engaged  to  your  daughter  in 
six  hours.  It  is  as  pretty  a  story  as  I  ever  read. 
A  man  who  wouldn't  ring  up  the  coroner  on  that 
needs  one  for  his  own  autopsy.  Why,  any  man 
would  be  proud  to  have  a  coroner  in  the  family 


36        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

on  the  strength  of  all  that.     Tescheron,  let's  talk 
about  the  pleasant  memories  of  the  past.     What 
asylums  that    you    have  been  in  do  you  pre- 
fer—eh?" 

Tescheron  proceeded  to  give  me  the  repertoire 
of  the  dancing  school.  When  he  began  to  polka 
and  upset  the  furniture  he  dropped  his  cologned 
handkerchief.  I  tossed  it  up  on  the  ventilator, 
for  somebody  had  ordered  a  lot  more  fish. 

"So  he  has  fooled  you,  too?  Yes?  You  have 
been  living  with  him  there  and  did  not  know  he 
was  married  to  a  woman  in  aflat  right  below  yours 
— her  name  is  Browning.  I  saw  that  you  remem- 
bered it.  Strange,  ain't  it?  Do  you  know  how 
she  died?  No?  I  see  you  do  not.  You  are 
very  smart,  very  clever.  You  have  talked  just 
as  I  hoped  you  would.  Let  me  introduce  Mr. 
Smith." 

And  from  behind  a  screen  stepped  a  slight, 
middle-aged  man  with  keen  blue  eyes  and  fair 
complexion.  I  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Smith.  He 
was  a  wide-awake  little  man,  not  in  the  least  em- 
barrassed by  the  eavesdropping,  as  it  was  part  of 
his  business.  I  have  lived  long  enough  to  know 
that  there  are  all  kinds  of  Smiths.  He  was  one 
of  them. 

Of  course  I  began  to  feel  that  they  were  crowd- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         37 

ing  me  to  turn  State's  evidence  against  my  faith- 
ful Jim.  The  thought  of  the  funeral  in  the  early 
evening  in  the  flat  below  ours,  and  Jim's  innocent 
inquiry  concerning  it,  had  flashed  upon  me.  I  still 
felt  that  Mr.  Smith  was  only  making  out  a  good 
case  to  match  a  big  bill.  If  Jim  Hosley  had  been 
leading  a  double  life  at  such  short  range  without 
my  knowing  it  I  must  be  a  chuckle-head.  I  knew 
Jim  Hosley  was  honest ;  that  easy  as  his  conscience 
was  in  trifling  matters,  he  knew  no  guile.  If  a 
Mrs.  Browning  had  been  living  below  us  she  was 
as  much  a  stranger  to  him  as  her  relative's  poetry 
— in  fact  it  might  have  been  hers  for  all  Jim 
knew  or  cared. 

Smith  answered  a  knock  on  the  door  and 
stepped  into  the  hall  for  half  a  minute. 

"You  don't  begin  to  know  this  scoundrel,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Tescheron,  eyeing  me  like  a  man  with 
the  facts.  "Perhaps  you  will  deny  that  this  fel- 
low Hosley  served  two  years  in  prison  at  Joliet, 
Illinois ;  that  he  was  indicted  for  forgery  in  Michi- 
gan and  got  into  a  mix-up  in  Arizona,  whence 
he  skipped  at  the  point  of  a  pistol  and  made  his 
way  down  into  Mexico.  This  fellow  Hosley  has 
passed  under  a  dozen  different  names.  He  is 
notorious  in  criminal  annals.  He  is  so  clever  that 
he  can  completely  fool  you  and  deceive  my  daughr 


38         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

ter,  who,  I  would  have  you  understand,  is  a  smart 
woman— one  not  easily  fooled.  It  is  lucky  I  took 
this  thing  in  hand  when  I  did,  or,  as  you  say,  we 
would  have  all  been  shown  up  in  the  papers." 

Well,  I  let  the  old  codger  run  along  at  this  clip. 
It  beat  anything  I  had  ever  heard,  but  it  didn't 
disturb  me,  as  I  have  stated,  except  to  create  a 
pain  that  a  good  laugh  would  have  cured.  What 
could  I  say  up  against  a  know-it-all  combination  ? 
Hadn't  the  detectives  been  at  work  a  whole  six 
hours  ?  What  kind  of  records  did  they  keep  in 
their  office  if  they  couldn't  bunch  a  choice  bouquet 
of  crime  for  a  fellow  willing  to  pay  for  it  ?  You 
can  buy  anything  in  New  York.  The  detective 
bureau  had  found  good  enough  clews  in  Mr. 
Tescheron's  desire  for  a  discovery  and  in  his  com- 
mercial rating  which  showed  that  he  could  pay 
top  prices  for  the  disgrace  of  a  would-be  son-in- 
law  in  the  estimation  of  his  devoted  daughter. 
The  detective  bureaus,  lawyers'  offices  and  "soci- 
ety" papers  that  deal  in  this  blasting  powder  and 
take  contracts  to  shatter  good  names  were  com- 
mon enough ;  everybody  knew  them.  People  like 
Tescheron,  though,  only  knew  their  names,  not 
their  reputations,  and  like  many  honest  folks  went 
to  one  of  these  concerns  because  he  had  seen  its 
name  frequently  in  print.  Publicity  draws  trade 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         39 

sometimes  without  reputation,  especially  first  cus- 
tomers. Tescheron  was  a  new  hand  at  this  busi- 
ness of  ruining  character  with  the  aid  of  a  crim- 
inal detective  bureau  and  its  lawyer  allies  and  as- 
sociates on  the  slanderous  "society"  papers  that 
fatten  on  the  frailties  of  human  beings  with 
money  to  buy  exemption,  but  too  weak  to  fight 
the  slimy  devils  whose  pens  drip  this  filth  from 
the  social  sewage  pots ;  he  knew  not  the  parasites 
who  cling  to  the  maggoty  exudations  of  every 
form  of  social  disorder.  That  is  the  way  I  fig- 
ured it.  I  want  it  straight  on  the  record  here 
that  my  devotion  to  Jim  Hosley  at  that  interview 
began  to  tighten  like  the  Damon-and-Pythias  grip 
of  a  two-ton  grab  bucket.  I  was  figuring  to  die 
beside  Jim  with  a  Nathan  Hale  poise  of  the  head 
and  some  pat  remark. 

..  Smith,  the  sharp-eyed,  handed  a  paper  to  Mr. 
Tescheron.  They  whispered  about  it  for  a  min- 
ute or  so  in  one  corner,  and  then  Mr.  Tescheron 
read  it  aloud : 

"Hosley  and  the  undertaker  drove  away  in 
coach  together  following  hearse.  Two  men  fol- 
lowing." 

As  he  finished  they  both  looked  at  me,  probably 


40        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

expecting  me  to  be  convinced  that  all  virtue  was 
on  their  side  and  to  unite  with  them  or  at  least 
listen  while  they  revealed  all  they  knew  about  Jim 
Hosley's  career  of  crime  and  deception.  But  I 
had  enough.  I  knew  where  the  crime  was  there, 
I  believed.  I  opened  up  on  a  new  line. 

"I  guess  I'll  notify  the  coroner,"  said  I  quietly, 
starting  to  go. 

"No,  no!"  shouted  Tescheron.  "I  did  not 
mean  to  do  that.  I  only  said  that  to  draw  you 
out.  All  I  ask  of  you,  Mr.  Hopkins,  is  that  you 
give  your  evidence  against  this  man  when  I  next 
summon  you.  I  am  glad  to  find  you  convinced 
at  last — but  never  mind  the  coroner.  I  can  ac- 
complish my  purpose  under  cover." 

I  edged  away. 

"No,  I  think  you  have  convinced  me  that  it  is 
my  duty  to  notify  the  coroner,"  said  I,  "so  that 
this  murderer,  Hosley,  may  be  put  to  death.  It's 
a  nasty  business  for  all  of  us,"  I  said,  "except 
Smith,  here,  who  won't  mind  it." 

"Hopkins,  if  you  do  that  you  will  spoil  all  my 
plans,"  pleaded  the  now  completely  flustrated 
Tescheron.  "Stand  in  with  me.  Help  me  to  pre- 
sent the  truth  about  this  rascal  in  the  presence  of 
my  daughter  and  all  will  go  well.  As  for  the  au- 
thorities, let  them  take  care  of  their  end  them- 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN        41 

selves.  The  Tescheron  family  is  not  to  be  sac- 
rificed! Think  of  yourself,  man!  Surely  you 
don't  want  to  be  mixed  up  in  such  a  horrible  crime 
— you  who  have  been  fooled  for  years.  Come, 
now!  Agreed,  eh?" 

"I'll  think  it  over,"  said  I,  giving  one  down- 
stroke  of  the  handle  for  a  parting  shake  to  each 
of  these  brainy  men  and  then  I  passed  out.  As  I 
traveled  toward  home,  I  regretted  I  had  been  so 
confident,  and  had  not  asked  to  be  shown  all  the 
evidence  they  had  against  Hosley.  That  proved 
to  be  more  of  a  mistake  than  I  supposed,  as  I  hur- 
ried along. 

Just  before  entering  our  house,  I  called  a  boy 
and  sent  this  message  to  Mr.  Tescheron,  at  his 
home  in  Ninety-sixth  Street.  I  found  the  address 
in  the  telephone  book : 

"Have  notified  Coroner  Flanagan,  He  has  tele- 
phoned all  the  cemeteries  to  hold  body.  Autopsy 
to-morrow.  Rest  easy.  I  am  with  you. 

"HOPKINS/' 


CHAPTER  IV 

FLANAGAN  would  enjoy  the  joke,  I 
thought,  on  my  way  home.  Coroner  Tim 
Flanagan,  the  Tammany  leader  of  the  dis- 
trict in  which  we  lived,  was  the  friend  of  every- 
body in  his  territory,  and  took  a  kindly  interest 
in  Jim  and  me,  although  we  held  office  on  other 
tenure  than  "pull."  We  bought  tickets  every  year 
for  the  annual  clam-bake  of  the  Timothy  J.  Flan- 
agan Association,  held  at  Rockaway,  and  there 
mingled  with  the  politicians  big  and  little,  and  the 
fellows  from  our  departments.  We  office-holders 
knew  which  side  our  bread  was  buttered  on,  and 
we  also  liked  clams.  We  did  not  attend  the  an- 
nual mid-winter  ball  of  the  same  association,  but 
we  never  failed  to  buy  tickets  admitting  "ladies 
and  gent."  If  the  news  that  I  had  taken  undue 
liberty  with  his  name  came  back  to  Flanagan  I 
knew  he  would  quickly  forgive  me.  Flanagan 
was  a  good  fellow,  straight  and  loyal. 

As  I  passed  through  the  vestibule  of  our  apart- 

42 


43 

ment  house  T  looked  at  the  letter-boxes  and  noticed 
the  narrow  string  of  crape  tied  on  the  little  knob, 
under  the  badly  written  name,  "Browning1/'  If 
the  sad  event  had  closed,  as  reported  by  the  subor- 
dinates of  Smith,  the  careless  undertaker  had  for- 
gotten to  remove  this  shred  of  formality. 

I  found  the  murderer,  forger  and  bad  man  of 
the  border,  in  bed,  snoring  as  if  he  was  glad  he 
had  always  stuck  to  the  treadmill  of  virtue,  and 
had  never  murdered  a  wife  to  get  another  with 
money,  or  had  raised  a  check  for  a  cool  million 
or  so  without  the  formalities  of  a  pious  pur- 
loiner  from  the  people's  purse.  No  criminal  in 
history  had  ever  slept  with  a  smoother  rhythm  to 
his  heart-beat  than  this  one,  with  the  elite  of 
New  York's  private  detective  bureaus  hot  upon 
his  trail  for  a  long  chase.  His  sonorous  snore 
might  have  sent  a  waver  through  the  mind  of  the 
crafty  Tescheron,  and  made  the  wily  Smith  feel 
that  the  case  would  dwindle  to  less  than  a  week's 
job.  when  he  was  probably  figuring  on  a  good 
two  thousand  dollars  in  it,  having  sized  up  the 
buyer  pretty  well. 

I  felt  satisfied  that  my  telegram  would  put  some 
insomnia  in  Ninety-sixth  Street  when  the  great 
work  closed  for  the  night  at  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel,  and  the  protector  of  the  household  returned 


44         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

to  rest  those  tired  wheels  that  had  been  whirring 
fast  in  his  head  since  2  P.  M.,  short -belted  to  the 
Smith  dynamo  of  fraud. 

I  didn't  expect  to  do  much  sleeping  myself,  so 
I  proceeded  to  divest  and  relax  under  the  sedative 
pull  of  my  pipe.  For  about  half  an  hour  I  creaked 
the  comfortable  rocker,  and  pondered  on  that  old 
subject  of  fools  and  their  money,  and  how  it  was 
that  wise  men  like  myself  had  so  little  of  it.  The 
solitudes  and  soliloquies  of  life  appealed  to  me — 
especially  with  a  nice  bunch  of  fake  crime  hov- 
ering in  the  air  between  me  and,  say,  a  few  feet 
beneath  my  rocker.  I  was  lolling  in  our  front 
parlor,  probably  not  ten  feet  above  the  spot  just 
vacated  by  the  latest  victim,  and  the  man  who 
would  swing  or  singe  for  the  deed  was  playing  a 
soft  nostrilian  air  two  doors  down  the  hall — but, 
no!  The  tune  stopped!  The  villain  had  turned 
216  pounds  over  on  a  set  of  springs  which  shiv- 
eringly  reported  the  man-quake  in  their  midst.  A 
brief  moment  of  calm — just  enough  for  a  mur- 
derer to  lick  his  chops  and  gather  a  lulling  sense 
of  monotony  from  the  contemplation  of  a  fresh 
wife-slaying,  and  he  was  off  again  with  the  sheriff 
after  him  for  exceeding  the  speed  limit.  His 
horn  was  clearing  the  track  and  the  vibrations 
blended  in  a  romping  continuity. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         45 

The  deeper  Jim  got  into  his  Bluebeard  dreams, 
or  his  fairyland  of  love,  the  deeper  I  got  into  my 
hobby,  political  economy,  and  to  thinking  of  the 
wide  difference  between  us. 

Somebody  had  to  do  a  little  thinking,  for  Fate 
was  tying  our  affairs  in  hard,  wet  knots,  and  the 
chances  were  we'd  have  to  stay  under  the  stream 
of  life's  perplexities.  Jim  was  so  smooth  in  ap- 
pearance (alas !  but  not  in  tongue)  he  might  slip 
out  of  a  corner  as  easily  as  his  fine  manners  en- 
abled him  to  progress  in  society.  But  I  was  no 
man  for  style.  I  could  cut  no  swath  with  women. 
The  few  times  I  had  tried  it,  the  scythe  had  turned 
upon  me,  took  me  for  an  extra  tough  bunch  of 
wet  grass  and  stung  me  badly.  I  could  see  that 
my  chances  there  were  poor.  If  Jim  got  out  of 
this  murder  business,  as  I  believed  he  would  soon, 
I  intended  to  run  the  flat  alone,  fill  it  full  of 
books  written  by  people  who  have  advised  the 
country  out  of  a  spirit  of  pure  patriotism  (and 
into  a  worse  hole),  and  after  reading  all  they  had 
to  say,  I  thought  I  could  produce  something  origi- 
nal that  would  put  them  all  out  of  print,  with  my 
small  volume  standing  alone  on  the  shelves,  as  the 
last  word  on  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  contain- 
ing full  directions  on  how  to  keep  to  the  trail, 
from  birth  to  the  grave,  with  a  stop-over  ticket 


46         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

at  the  last-named  junction.  I  felt  that  all  this 
was  in  me,  just  as  Jim  felt  there  was  some- 
thing in  him,  he  didn't  know  what,  but  so  long 
as  it  kept  him  fidgeting  he  knew  it  was 
there. 

It  was  not  surprising  to  my  friends  that  I  had 
given  up  all  hope  for  myself.  As  I  have  said,  I 
was  no  man  for  style.  It  always  seemed  to  me  that 
my  clothes  fitted  me  when  I  was  buying  them,  but 
it  never  struck  anybody  else  that  way  afterward. 
I  paid  the  same  prices  as  Jim,  but  I  would  have 
done  just  as  badly  at  three  times  as  much,  and 
might  just  as  well  have  saved  money  buying  sec- 
ond-hand through  a  want  "ad."  Nature  de- 
signed me  to  spoil  tailoring.  If  I  had  lived  in 
Eden  the  fig  leaves  on  my  belt  would  have 
browned  and  cracked  before  noon  the  first  day, 
and  if  a  few  figs  were  then  worn  on  the  side  as 
fringe  ornaments,  I  would  have  carelessly  picked 
them  inside  out,  making  the  suit  look  seedier  still. 
On  a  foggy  morning  the  dewdrops  of  Paradise 
would  have  spotted  me,  and  on  a  windy  day  the 
flying  burrs  and  feather-tailed  seeds  would  have 
taken  me  for  good  ground ;  the  pussy  willows  and 
all  such  forest  fuzz  and  excelsior — for  a  good 
thing.  If  I  had  been  a  Roman  no  one  would  have 
seen  me  down  street,  for  I  would  be  in  the  baths 


CUPID'S  MIDDLEMAN        47 

waiting  for  my  wrapper  to  be  scoured,  washed 
and  mended. 

This  is  a  way  Fate  has  of  keeping  a  few  schol- 
ars and  investigators  in  the  world.  Herbert 
Spencer  would  have  been  swamped  in  a  family, 
and  the  same  with  George  Eliot.  If  they  had 
married  each  other,  as  Herbert  says  they  might 
(had  Georgie  been  better-looking),  philosophical 
and  imaginative  genius  would  have  been  lost  in 
getting  the  meals  and  bending  posterity  over  the 
parental  knee  to  make  sin  seem  undesirable.  I 
had  always  felt  that  Jim  was  cut  out  to  get  mar- 
ried, and  I  stood  ready  to  help  him  through  the 
entire  catalogue  of  crime  and  conspiracy,  for  I 
knew  he  could  not  undertake  so  much  alone  as 
well  as  I  knew  glue  from  tallow  coming  two  miles 
by  air  line.  If  Jim  wanted  to  do  it,  though,  I 
would  give  him  the  benefit  of  my  knowledge  of 
the  theory  of  courtship,  a  subject  I  was  well  up  in, 
having  read  considerably  more  fiction  than  he  had. 
This  with  my  keen  intuitive  perceptions,  I  felt 
fitted  me  to  act  again  in  an  advisory  capacity,  for 
my  critical  faculties  were  massive,  although,  as  I 
have  hinted,  my  executive  qualities  as  a  lover  were 
undersized. 

I  had  time  for  Jim's  affairs,  because  society  had 
peculiar  horrors  for  me.  Let  a  woman  say  some- 


48        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

thing  at  a  dinner  or  a  reception,  and  my  neck 
would  begin  to  swell  like  a  pouter  pigeon's  and 
my  collar  would  close  down  like  a  pair  of  hedge 
clippers  centered  at  the  back  collar  button.  This 
would  cause  no  alarm  in  the  young  woman,  for 
she  would  imagine  the  choking  symptoms  were 
only  signs  of  an  embarrassment  produced  by  her 
interest  in  me.  This  would  not  have  been  a  bad 
thing,  for  bashful  men  always  get  the  most  en- 
couragement, and  if  persistently  bashful,  are 
coaxed  into  all  the  intricate  arts  of  the  gentle 
game  by  the  woman  who  is  interested  in  them. 
Thus  T  always  seemed  to  have  the  good  luck  of 
the  bashful  man  up  to  the  last  gasp,  and  until  I 
began  to  turn  blue.  She  would  then  see  that  it 
was  apoplexy,  and  not  her  charms,  which 
was  undoing  me.  But  the  apoplexy,  the 
bulging  veins  and  the  reddening  eyes  were 
forgotten  when  I  sought  relief  by  insert- 
ing the  first  two  fingers  of  each  hand  on 
either  side  of  my  collar,  and  with  a  short,  outward 
jerk,  would  open  the  starchy  shears  that  were 
fastening  like  a  constrictor  around  my  air  valves. 
This  would  startle  the  young  creature  into  diffi- 
dence, and  I  always  hated  to  do  it,  but  it  was  the 
only  way  I  could  assume  my  self-control.  Fol- 
lowing the  application  of  the  two-finger  move* 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         49 

ment,  relief  would  come  quickly,  with  a  splutter 
and  a  stammering  apology  for  not  catching  her 
last  remark.  My  volubility  from  that  point  to 
the  next  attack,  when  interrupted  by  a  suggestion 
which  would  derail  me,  or  by  a  third  party  not 
following  our  train  of  thought,  would  impress  the 
hearer  that  it  was  the  collar  which  was  tight. 
This  remarkable  misfortune,  of  course,  deprived 
me  of  the  influence  of  the  bashful  man,  and  as  I 
was  no  dissembler  I  could  not  take  advantage  of 
the  appearance  of  my  distress.  My  blushes  were 
wholly  due  to  choking  and  could  not  pass  for 
flashes  reflexed  by  heart-throbs. 

There  was  another  thing  I  had  to  battle  with 
from  my  entrance  into  society.  Jim  could  look 
like  a  lord  in  a  dress  suit.  I  always  looked  like 
a  lord  knows  what!  The  'Sun  once  published  a 
picture  of  the  dress  trousers  of  Grover  Cleveland 
and  David  B.  Hill  lined  up  with  those  of  Gov- 
ernor Montague  of  Virginia,  for  impartial  presen- 
tation by  a  flashlight  photograph.  It  was  an  as- 
tonishing revelation  of  Democracy  below  the  waist 
line.  Jim  cut  it  out  and  put  it  in  a  pretty  straw 
frame.  He  said  he  never  wanted  me  to  lose  sight 
of  the  styles  set  by  great  statesmen.  Montague, 
as  became  his  aristocratic  name  and  lineage,  was 
a  model  of  perfection  about  the  legs,  and  Jim  said 


SO        CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

it  proved  he  would  never  get  to  Washington  and 
take  rank  with  our  great  men.  Cleveland  and 
Hill,  however,  who  had  been  there,  evidently 
pinned  their  trousers  in  curl-papers,  so  that  they 
were  always  ready  to  look  fancy  in  society  and 
be  snap-shotted.  Mine  followed  the  Washington 
route  without  urging.  Then,  as  to  vest,  coat  and 
shirts:  no  tailor  could  make  a  coat  for  me  that 
could  trail  after  my  neck  when  it  was  engaged  in 
the  throes  of  a  society  conversation,  The  coat 
had  to  go  off  at  the  back  of  the  collar  and  stand 
to  one  side  until  the  neck  was  through  talking. 
The  vest  generally  showed  only  two  square  inches 
and  gave  little  trouble  to  the  public,  so  long  as  I 
kept  my  coat  on  and  hid  the  safety-pins  which 
reefed  it  in  the  back.  The  shirt,  up  to  a  certain 
course  of  the  dinner,  would  keep  under  the  nap- 
kin, but  until  I  learned  of  a  patent  mixture  to 
cover  the  bosom  with  a  transparent  waterproof- 
ing, used  to  protect  wall-paper  and  other  delicate 
fabrics  from  ink  stains  and  finger-marks,  I  found 
it  a  burden  to  carry  so  much  exposed  linen.  But 
with  this  wax  paint,  I  care  not  what  drops  on 
it;  it  won't  stick  unless  it's  hot  metal,  and  there 
is  not  so  much  of  that  in  the  air  at  dinners  this 
side  of  Arizona. 

Studs  are  a  source  of  mortification  to  me.     I 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         51 

have  paid  as  high  as  fifty  cents  for  a  set  of  three 
and  had  them  all  break  off  the  first  night,  exposing 
the  brass  settings.  I  sought  to  reduce  this  tor- 
ment by  wearing  only  one  stud-hole,  but  that 
makes  it  necessary  to  go  away  into  a  far  country, 
three  times  during  the  dinner,  to  bore  out  the 
stump  of  the  old  stud  and  drive  in  the  new.  Any 
man  who  has  done  the  job  with  his  collar  and  tie 
on,  knows  that  he  is  as  pop-eyed  as  a  lobster  when 
he  gets  through,  trying  to  keep  the  field  of  opera- 
tions in  view.  I  had  special  bolts  made  which  I 
had  soldered  on.  This  is  practicable  where  the 
wax  paint  is  used  and  the  mangle  of  the  laundry 
avoided.  A  good  paint  will  last  three  years. 

Shaving  for  society  appearances  cut  windfalls 
all  over  my  face,  that  I  had  to  cover  with  the 
overhang  of  whiskers.  I  tried  the  old-style  razor, 
but  my  shaving  ran  into  big  money  for  court 
plaster,  so  I  got  some  safety  razors,  several 
brands  of  them,  determined  to  keep  a  decent-look- 
ing lawn.  These  devices  are  like  mowing  ma- 
chines in  that  they  have  teeth  to  grip  the  crop  and 
make  it  stand  straight  for  the  attack  of  the  knife, 
but  the  knife  doesn't  move  in  a  shuttle  like  that 
of  the  mowing  machine — it  is  stationary,  so  that 
you  have  an  arrangement  that  is  a  combination 
of  mowing  machine  and  road  scraper.  I  think 


52         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

the  safety  razors  were  responsible  for  most  of 
the  blanks  in  my  whisker  area.  They  dug  chunks 
out  of  some  of  the  most  fertile  spots,  and  as  noth- 
ing would  grow  there,  I  covered  them  by  the 
ivy  process  adopted  by  bald  men,  who  train 
eighteen  hairs  from  back  of  the  left  ear  diagonally 
up  and  across  the  cranial  arbor  and  down  the 
front  to  a  point  over  the  right  eye,  where  the  ends 
are  brought  up  short  as  if  they  were  rooted  near 
there.  I  could  say  I  was  not  bald.  This  gave 
me  some  satisfaction,  but  I  never  boasted  of  it  in 
public.  There  was  a  streak  of  porcupine  in  our 
family.  This  accounted  for  the  trod-grass  ap- 
pearance of  my  head,  even  when  prepared  care- 
fully for  public  appearance.  It  was  at  its  best 
when  it  looked  like  a  meadow  of  tall  timothy  that 
had  been  walked  over  by  the  cows  on  a  wet  day. 
Curry-combing  would  not  disturb  it.  Herr  Most, 
Ibsen,  Old  Hoss  Hoey  and  I  had  a  common  quill- 
haired  ancestor. 

There  were  some  other  points  that  fitted  me  to 
blush  unseen.  When  I  was  fifteen  years  old  and 
my  voice  was  changing,  it  struck  a  peculiar  gait. 
It  ran  up  and  down  about  six  octaves,  to  the 
tune  of  a  five-finger  exercise.  I  talked  around 
town  for  a  few  weeks  in  a  surprisingly  new  style, 
that  reminded  me  of  a  boarder  who  came  up  to 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         53 

our  place  one  summer  from  New  York  and  un- 
dertook to  show  us  how  to  ride  a  horse.  When 
the  horse  got  as  fast  as  a  spry  walk  the  boarder 
would  teeter  up  and  down  in  the  saddle  as  if  he 
had  been  practicing  on  a  spring  bed  and  had  kept  a 
chunk  of  it  in  each  hip  pocket  for  elasticity.  George 
Honkey,  our  druggist  and  censor  of  public  man- 
ners, said  it  was  the  most  insipid  piece  of  equine 
pitty-patter  he  had  ever  seen  on  Main  Street,  and 
from  the  get-up-and-down  of  it,  he  guessed  it 
must  be  the  Episcopal  ritual  for  horseback  exer- 
cise. My  vocal  cords,  while  tuning  for  my  lowly 
part  in  life's  orchestra,  for  a  day  at  a  time  would 
seem  to  stick  to  a  decent  tenor  or  drop  to  an  im- 
pressive bass  which  would  have  fitted  me  to  be  a 
preacher,  but  a  sudden  attack  of  mumps,  with 
measles  complicating,  pulled  them  to  one  side  and 
burned  the  bridge.  They  afterward  drew  tight 
down  on  the  sounding  board,  so  that  now  when 
I  talk  the  rickety  buzz  is  like  that  of  a  horse-fiddle 
played  with  the  tremolo  and  the  soft  pedal.  An 
seolian  harp  made  of  rubber  bands  on  a  bicycle, 
aroused  by  the  wind  as  the  machine  moves  swiftly, 
gives  the  same  soft  rasp — a  prolonged  "sizz." 

What  chance  had  a  man  with  women,  handi- 
capped as  I  was?  And  I  have  mentioned  only  a 
few  minor  matters,  which  have  come  quickly  to 


54         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

mind,  as  I  hastily  pen  this  narrative  of  my  ad- 
ventures as  the  middleman  in  Jim's  love  affairs. 
And  yet  I  had  a  true  and  noble  heart,  with  a 
capacity  for  manly  devotion  as  great  as  any  ever 
advertised  on  Sunday  in  the  "personal"  column. 
I  make  this  statement  because  a  man  in  my  posi- 
tion must  take  the  stand  in  his  own  behalf,  if  any 
testimony  is  to  be  given  for  his  side  of  the  case. 
I  am  the  only  competent  witness  to  my  own  vir- 
tues. In  order  to  appreciate  me,  a  woman  would 
need  to  have  a  fine  discrimination.  My  beauty 
might  have  been  revealed  to  such  a  woman  if  she 
had  concentrated  by  absent  treatment  on  my  lofty, 
self-sacrificing  character,  evidenced  by  my  pur- 
suit of  the  chaste  in  art  and  the  sane  in  philosophy. 
But  all  hope  had  then  well-nigh  departed.  I 
realized  that  there  were  inconsistencies  in  the 
theories  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest  and  natural 
selection.  I  was  an  example  of  the  exception  to 
the  rule.  Excluded,  I  became  the  last  of  my  race. 
I  was  the  last  candy  in  the  box — just  as  full  of 
sugar  as  those  that  had  been  devoured,  but  con- 
demned to  rattle  in  solitude  because,  forsooth, 
chocolate  creams  are  preferred  to  gum-drops. 
Chilled  by  a  want  of  sympathetic  appreciation 
while  mingling  with  my  fellows,  I  had  gradually 
withdrawn  to  the  scholarly  cloisters  of  our  fifth- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         55 

story  apartment,  adjacent  to  the  tin  roof,  which 
so  fascinated  the  summer  sun,  and  far  above  the 
turmoil  of  a  world  of  men  and  women  wholly  dis- 
interested in  me.  Perhaps  this  may  seem  a  little 
too  pessimistic  for  a  philosopher  whose  experience 
had  taught  him  to  be  above  disappointment,  yet 
I  must  confess  it  is  true  I  could  not  witness  the 
social  achievements  of  my  companion  without 
pangs  of  remorse;  the  indifference  of  the  world 
to  merit,  to  much  pure  gold  in  the  ore,  convinced 
me  that  a  varnished  label  in  six  colors  maintains 
the  market  for  mediocrity.  Driven  to  despera- 
tion, I  might  yet  seek  a  beauty  doctor  and  obtain 
the  glazed  surface  so  essential  to  social  success. 
Bachelorhood  with  Jim  seemed  to  have  been  due 
to  his  lack  of  appreciation  of  others,  for  accord- 
ing to  the  favorable  comment  his  comely  appear- 
ance created,  he  seemed  to  be  filled  with  indiffer- 
ence; while  with  me,  as  I  warmed  into  high  en- 
thusiasm over  certain  well-defined  representatives 
of  the  angelic  sex,  coolness,  growing  to  statuesque 
frigidity,  would  develop  in  the  object  of  my  devo- 
tions, and  the  beauty  whose  charms  had  bedeviled 
me  into  insomnia  and  wild-eyed  desperation  be- 
came related  to  me  thereafter  as  the  angel  sur- 
mounting the  tombstone  that  marked  the  resting 
place  of  my  folly. 


56        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

Moderation,  therefore,  I  concluded,  was  the 
keynote  of  success  in  courtship.  When  the  cur- 
rent became  balanced  in  negative  and  positive 
qualities,  the  desirable  equilibrium  recognized  by 
each  pole  as  the  real  thrill  of  mutual  romance,  jeal- 
ousy and  despair  would  spark,  blow  out  the  fuse 
and  short-circuit  into  a  proposal  and  an  accept- 
ance. Jim  was  negative  in  desire  and  positive 
in  appearance,  thus  securing  neutrality,  and  my 
passive  state  was  the  resultant  of  a  positive  in- 
clination and  a  negative  exterior.  Thus  Jim  was 
admired  and  I  was  tolerated,  but  he  had  pro- 
gressed no  further  than  I. 

One  Sunday  he  and  I  were  strolling  through  an 
art  gallery. 

"What  do  you  call  this,  Ben?"  he  whispered 
behind  his  hand,  pointing  to  the  portrait  of  a  red- 
haired  Diana  sitting  cm  a  low,  mossy  stump  in  a 
lonely  spot.  Her  back  was  turned  toward  us,  and 
she  seemed  to  be  taking  a  sun  bath.  He  looked 
stealthily  around  to  make  sure  his  curiosity  was 
not  noted  by  the  spectators  near  us. 

"It  says  on  the  label  that  Titty  Ann  painted  it. 
It  is  the  bluest-looking  woman  I  ever  saw;  how 
did  they  come  to  let  it  in  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  I,  not  attempting  to  disturb  his 
view  of  the  painting  or  the  name  of  the  artist, 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         57 

"Titty  Ann  was  a  great  painter  of  the  blue- 
blooded  women  of  the  aristocracy,  so  blue-blooded 
they  seemed  to  be  bruised  all  over,  and  Titty  Ann 
wanted  you  to  see  there  was  no  place  they  had  not 
been  hurt." 

The  incident  shows  how  keen  was  Jim's  appre- 
ciation of  this  great  subject  of  universal  interest 
to  bachelors.  It  seemed  to  me  in  those  days  that 
the  fairest  creature  that  ever  fluttered  could  not 
charm  him  with  the  siren  whistle  of  her  swishing 
silk,  nor  throw  a  damaging  spark  from  her  bright 
eyes.  But  here  he  was,  plunged  into  the  most 
dreadful  complications,  which  seemed  in  the  mind 
of  Tescheron,  at  least,  to  be  fastening  him  in  the 
electric  chair. 

It  must  have  been  about  1 1 :3O  o'clock  when 
Jim  got  out  of  bed  and  began  to  mope  around 
the  flat,  tramp  nervously  up  and  down  the  private 
hall  and  scuffle  through  the  closets,  the  cupboard 
and  among  the  pots  and  pans,  which  fretfully 
clashed  in  a  heap  upon  the  floor  when  he  sought 
to  unhook  his  favorite,  the  upper  story  of  the 
double  boiler.  I  wondered  what  ailed  him  now. 
From  the  way  the  alleged  murderer  was  rattling 
the  crockery  and  the  tinware,  back  in  the  kitchen,  I 
knew  he  had  it  bad.  What  prompted  him  to  in- 
vade the  kitchen  and  unhook  our  outfit  I  don't 


68        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

know,  but  I  think  he  was  trying  to  heat  some 
water,  poor  chap! — to  accompany  a  certain  pill, 
on  a  theory  that  it  was  dyspepsia  which  disturbed 
his  dreams. 

Presently  he  wandered  into  the  front  room, 
looking  badly  rumpled.  He  had  on  his  yellow 
and  brown  dressing  gown  and  a  pair  of  pink- 
bowed  knitted  slippers  of  a  piebald  variety,  that 
I  had  seen  displayed  by  a  neighboring  gents'  fur- 
nishing goods  store. 

"Ben,  what  are  you  doing  up  this  time  of  night  ? 
Pretty  late,  ain't  it?"  He  asked. 

"Oh,  I'm  just  cogitating,"  I  answered.  "You 
look  sick ;  anything  the  matter  with  you  ? — and, 
say,  when  you  go  into  that  kitchen,  I  wish  you 
wouldn't  chuck  everything  in  the  place  on  the  floor 
for  me  to  pick  up." 

"I  picked  'em  all  up,  Ben,"  was  his  meek  reply. 

I  never  could  scold  him,  so  I  forgave  him  and 
invited  him  to  sit  down  and  have  a  smoke.  He 
fairly  jumped  at  the  idea,  and  it  pleased  me  to 
see  him  bite.  I  thought  then  how  little  Tescheron 
could  know  of  this  innocent  blockhead,  Jim  Hos- 
ley,  whose  heart  and  brain  traps  were  built  on  the 
open,  sanitary  order,  with  nothing  concealed. 

Jim  continued  fidgety  and  wide-awake  as  he 
took  his  seat  near  the  table  and  the  county  papers. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         59 

He  squirmed  on  the  cushions,  smoked  hard  and 
complained  of  the  tobacco,  the  weather,  the  police 
magistrates,  his  tight  shoes,  the  careless  washer- 
woman and  a  string  of  matters  incidental  to  the 
world's  work  and  its  burdens  that  he  had  never 
mentioned  before  so  long  as  I  had  lived  with  him, 
and  that  was  pretty  close  to  ten  years.  It  was 
easy  to  see  that  this  was  <no  ordinary  case.  Sev- 
eral times  I  had  suffered  the  same  sort  of  misery ; 
had  looked  for  a  soft  seat  and  reposeful  thoughts 
in  vain.  Jim  had  not  noticed  it. 

A  man  who  has  been  forty  miles  over  a  moun- 
tain road  on  an  empty  lumber  wagon  knows  what 
thrills  are.  I  could  see  that  Jim  was  aboard  and 
that  the  team  had  cut  loose  down  hill,  for  his 
bones  were  fairly  rattling  with  the  vibrations  from 
the  bog  hollows,  "thank  yer,  mums,"  old  stumps 
and  disagreeable  boulders.  He  needed  help.  He 
couldn't  hang  on  much  longer. 

"Say,  Ben,  there  was  a  little  matter  I  wanted 
to  speak  to  you  about,"  said  Jim,  with  the  same 
uneasy  manner  in  which  he  had  rubbed  all  our 
household  arrangements  the  wrong  way  and 
aroused  the  resentment  of  the  frying-pan  and  its 
"pards"  of  the  domestic  range. 

I  at  once  began  to  talk  about  something  I  was 
reading,  to  let  him  down  easy  and  to  open  him  up 


60         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

wider,  for  I  was  anxious  to  burrow  into  the  mys- 
tery and  dig1  exploration  shafts  in  all  directions. 
As  he  seemed  to  close  again,  I  allowed  my  com- 
ment to  drool  off  into  a  hum,  and  then  looked  up 
short  in  a  way  to  send  his  ideas  from  mark-time 
to  a  continuance  of  the  procession. 

"You  know  that  young  lady,  Miss  Tescheron — 
Miss  Gabrielle  Tescheron?"  asked  Jim,  tossing 
his  hair  into  windrows  and  looking  straight  away 
from  me. 

''Why,  I  know  that  lovely  girl  I've  seen  you 
with ;  is  her  name — " 

"Yes,  that's  her  name,  and  we're  to  be  mar- 
ried." 

"Jim,  old  boy,  let  me  congratulate  you."  And 
we  shook  hands  over  this  creature  who  was  to 
wreck  our  happy  home — still,  I  felt  there  wouldn't 
be  enough  crockery  to  continue  on  unless  the  thing 
was  settled  in  church  or  at  Sing  Sing  pretty  soon. 

"When  is  it  to  come  off?"  I  continued,  that 
question  usually  being  No.  2  to  the  hand-shake 
and  congratulations. 

"Ben,  I  mention  this  matter  because  I  feel  that 
I  need  your  friendship  now  more  than  ever,"  said 
he,  disregarding  my  inquiry  in  a  way  which 
clearly  showed  that  Cupid  had  stubbed  a  toe.  "I 
am  up  against  it.  Tell  me,  what  should  be  done  ? 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         61 

You  must  know  a  lot  about  such  matters,  and  I 
don't  seem  to  understand.  It's  the  old  man,  her 
pa;  a  little  whipper-snapper  of  a  dude.  I  could 
swat  him  with  my  little  finger  and  settle  him  in 
a  minute.  George!  I've  a  mind  to,  at  that." 

"That,  of  course,  is  out  of  the  question,"  I  ad- 
vised, tackling  the  matter  as  if  time  and  again  the 
fat  of  my  theories  had  been  tried  out  into  the 
dripping  of  wedded  affinities.  "Soft  dealing  with 
parents  is  essential."  This  wisdom  came  also  as 
if  I  were  quoting  from  a  book  by  a  Mormon,  who 
had  handled  every  variety  of  father-in-law.  "On 
what  does  pa  base  his  opposition?" 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Jim,  preparing  to  con- 
fess all  and  let  me  do  the  penance.  "But  it's  such 
blamed  nonsense,  I'm  almost  afraid  to.  It  shows 
what  an  infernal  old  fool  he  is." 

"How  old  is  pa?"  I  inquired. 

"Oh,  he's  an  old  'un." 

"Says  you're  old  enough  to  be  her  father, 
doesn't  he?" 

"That's  it,  but  he's  off;  and  how  would  you 
get  around  it,  anyway — by  postponing  it?" 

Jim's  notion  of  ages,  and  Tescheron's,  I  feared 
were  both  wide  of  the  mark,  but  I  let  that  pass. 
One  was  vain  and  mad,  and  the  other  did  not 
observe  closely. 


62        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"Is  that  all  he  said?"  I  asked. 

"Well,  no.  I'll  tell  you  just  what  he  said  as 
near  as  I  can  remember,  and  see  if  you  can  figure 
out  the  answer.  I  came  away  to-day  from  his 
office,  squeezed  out  and  dried  up,  but  I  gave  him 
no  back  talk.  I  simply  said,  'Mr.  Tescheron,  I 
love  your  daughter,  Gabrielle,  and  I  am  here,  sir, 
to  ask  you  to  set  the  day  for  the  wedding,'  just 
like  that,  as  pleasant  as  if  I  was  chatting  to  him 
after  church.  Say,  I  thought  he  would  hurrah, 
or  take  me  around  to  lunch  (it  was  then  after 
noon)  and  introduce  me  to  his  friends.  But  he 
proceeded  to  breathe  an  early  frost  on  my  green 
and  tender  leaves.  As  I  was  about  to  say,  Ben, 
as  near  as  I  can  remember  after  rehearsing  all 
this  afternoon  is  this — and  I  tell  you,  because  if  I 
don't  the  chances  are  I'll  go  right  on  rehearsing 
it  forever  in  some  asylum,  and  then  everybody  will 
hear  it  till  they  are  sick  and  tired  of  it,  and  the 
curtain  won't  rise  on  the  real  show.  Said  he: 
'Well,  so  you  say,  so  you  say,  so  you  say !'  This 
beat  me.  I  had  never  heard  a  man  talk  that 
way." 

"I've  heard  that  kind,"  said  I,  knowingly.  "He 
took  stitches  in  his  conversation." 

'  'So  you  say,  so  you  say.  What  say  I  ?  So  ? 
No.'  That  has  been  running  through  my  head 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         63 

in  a  way  to  set  me  crazy,"  continued  Jim.  "  'Do 
I  want  a  son-in-law  nearly  as  old  as  I  am?'  the 
little  jackanapes  asked  me.  'Not  I.  So  you  see, 
you  are  too  old  for  Gabrielle.'  Now,  what  do 
you  think  of  that  ?  Doesn't  that  beat  you  ?  Why, 
the  old  chap  is  over  fifty,  and  he  says  I  am  older 
than  he  is.  I  actually  believe  he's  crazy.  Hair 
dye  and  cologne  and  young  men's  clothes  seem  to 
give  him  the  notion  that  he  is  about  thirty  and 
became  Gabrielle's  father  when  he  was  about  five 
years  old.  He's  got  an  idea  from  somewhere  that 
I'm  twice  as  old  as  I  am  because  I'm  twice  as  big 
as  he  is — that's  the  most  reasonable  way  I  can 
look  at  it.  Well,  I  got  so  dry  in  the  roof  of  my 
mouth  I  couldn't  stub  my  tongue  on  it  to  turn 
a  word ;  my  eyes  burned  and  a  cold  sweat  started. 
No  man  his  size  had  ever  floored  me  before.  I 
tried  hard  to  remember  he  was  Gabrielle's  father, 
and  out  of  respect  for  her  I  should  not  injure  him. 
He  then  piled  in  on  me  again.  'That  is  not  all,'  he 
said.  'Gabrielle  is  ambitious.  You  are  lazy.  You 
have  wasted  your  youth.  Look  at  you !  A  man 
of  your  age  who  has  done  nothing  yet !' ' 

From  this  I  gathered  that  Tescheron's  objec- 
tions were  at  first  personal.  He  did  not  find  Jim 
to  his  liking  and  was  probably  urging  his  daugh- 
ter to  regard  the  suitor  in  the  same  light.  Later 


64         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

in  the  day  the  better  excuse  learned  from  the 
great  detective  bureau  came  to  his  support. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that,  Ben?"  continued 
Jim.  "What  has  he  done  to  brag  about?  Should 
I  bring  a  birth  certificate?" 

'Yes,  but  he  is  not  marrying  Gabrielle  himself," 
said  I.  "He  is  trying  to  help  her  to  find  a  good 
husband.  You  must  be  generous,  Jim,  and  give 
a  father  his  due." 

"Shucks !  He  spends  all  his  pay  on  his  clothes. 
Such  a  dresser  you  never  saw,  and  what  is  he? 
'A  rubber-neck,  that's  all." 

"A  what?" 

"I  asked  one  of  the  fellows  who  worked  where 
he  does,  some  time  ago,  what  old  man  Tescheron 
did,  and  he  told  me  he  was  a  rubber-neck.  Now, 
I  know  very  well  that  a  rubber-neck  is  a  fellow 
who  goes  around  to  corner  groceries  to  see  what 
other  kinds  of  crackers  are  sold  there  besides  the 
brands  furnished  by  his  house.  He  starts  in  talk- 
ing about  the  price  of  green-groceries,  drifts  along 
for  five  or  ten  minutes,  and  keeps  squinting  over 
the  cracker  boxes.  To  stave  off  suspicion  he 
buys  an  apple,  peels  it  carefully  and  eats  it  slowly, 
while  he  incidentally  craves  a  cracker  and  pro- 
ceeds to  pump  the  innocent  grocer  on  his  cracker 
business.  He  writes  out  his  notes  in  full  after- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN        65 

ward  and  that  grocer  is  then  described  on  a  card 
index  at  the  main  office  as  handling  such  and  such 
goods.  I  ought  to  know  what  rubber-necks  are, 
having  been  around  groceries  enough." 

"A  sort  of  cracker  detective,"  said  I. 

"That's  all.  A  common,  ordinary  rubber-neck 
— gets  about  fifteen  a  week.  By  the  way  he  dresses 
you'd  think  he  had  a  king's  job.  Think  of  him 
looking  down  upon  me.  Small  as  I  am,  I  lead 
him." 

"I  wonder  would  he  turn  up  his  nose  at  me, 
an  Inspector  of  Offensive  Trades?"  I  queried, 
sadly.  "But  go  ahead,  Jim,  and  stick  to  your 
story,  for  I  can  see  that  there  is  plenty  of  trouble 
ahead  for  you." 

This  startled  Jim  into  a  more  direct  presenta- 
tion of  his  problem. 

"Well,  I  up  arid  told  him,  said  I :  'Mr.  Tesch- 
eron,  Miss  Gabrielle  and  I  would  like  to  be  mar- 
ried at  her  home  some  time  soon/  said  I ;  'and  if 
you  don't  wish  it  that  way,'  said  I,  'I  guess  we 
can  find  a  place  that  will  be  big  enough  and  will 
answer  just  as  well,'  said  I;  and  then  I  began  to 
start  up  warmer  and  get  bolder,  when  he  shut 
me  off  with  a  string  of  cuss  words  that  ran  all 
over  me.  I  didn't  suppose  he  could  talk  that  way, 
but  no  one  in  the  office  seemed  to  mind,  although 


66        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

I'll  bet  you  could  have  heard  him  a  mile  down 
South  Street." 

"South  Street?"  I  asked,  in  a  surprised  tone 
not  observed  by  the  single-minded  Jim.  "Where's 
his  office  ?" 

"Fulton  Market." 

"The  place  they  deal  in  fish  at  wholesale.  And 
yet  you  say  he  is  a  rubber-neck  for  a  cracker 
house  ?"  I  connected  the  faint  suggestion  of  fish 
at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  with  the  case  at  this 
point,  and  knew  at  once  Tescheron's  business,  and 
from  my  knowledge  gained  by  many  inspections 
at  the  market  inferred  that  the  father  of  the  girl 
was  a  millionaire. 

"A  queer  place  for  the  cracker  business,"  said  I. 

"Well,  a  fellow  told  me ;  that's  all  I  know,"  said 
Jim.  "I  haven't  been  sitting  on  the  same  sofa 
with  the  old  gentleman  asking  him  questions." 

"Jim,  do  you  know  that  you  have  this  prospec- 
tive father-in-law  all  twisted?  He's  something 
besides  a  cheap  dude,"  said  I.  "He's  no  rubber- 
neck. I'll  bet  the  old  chap  is  well  off,  and  do 
you  want  to  know  why  he  dresses  so  fine  and 
keeps  cologne  on  his  handkerchief?" 

"That's  right,  he  does,"  said  Jim  with  a  won- 
dering gaze.  "And  it's  sickening  to  find  a  little, 
weazened,  sa wed-off  cuss  doing  it — just  to  get 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         67 

people  to  look  around  to  locate  him,  I  warrant. 
There'd  be  no  questions  about  old  Tescheron  if  it 
warn't  for  his  gasoline." 

"No,  no.  You  are  away  off,  Jim.  You  don't 
know  so  much  about  perfumes  and  their  anti- 
dotes as  I  do,  and  besides,  you're  not  expected  to, 
because  it  is  not  your  profession.  My  nose  is 
my  bread  and  butter.  I  am  an  expert  in  the 
analysis  of  the  nether  atmosphere.  Any  compo- 
site bunch  of  air  striking-  my  acute  analytic  appa- 
ratus is  at  once  split  into  its  elements.  Put  me 
blindfolded  in  a  woman's  kitchen  and  I  can  tell 
you  if  there  is  pumpkin  pie  and  rhubarb  under 
cover  there,  and  where  they  keep  the  butter  and 
cheese.  I  can  tell  you  what  kind  of  microbes  live 
in  the  cellar  and  all  about  their  relatives,  and  even 
if  there  are  moths  or  other  evidences  of  winged 
occupancy  among  the  fauna  of  the  mattresses  on 
the  floors  above.  Wonderful,  of  course;  but  it's 
in  my  line,  that's  all.  Given  a  peculiar  kind  of 
brains  and  any  man  can  do  it  just  as  easily.  My 
great  deficiencies  in  other  respects  have  all  tended 
to  the  enlargement  of  this  faculty.  By  some  ac- 
cident of  nature  my  ancestors  appear  to  have  in- 
clined toward  obtaining  a  higher  development  of 
this  sense  so  important  to  the  protection  of  life 
in  these  days  of  crowded  living.  Of  course,  they 


68        CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

did  it  unconsciously ;  but  Fate  wisely  predisposes, 
I  believe — " 

"Well,  what  has  this  all  got  to  do  with  Gabri- 
elle?"  interrupted  Jim,  crossing-  first  one  leg  and 
then  the  other,  and  tossing  his  hair  into  cocks 
ready  to  be  thrown  on  the  rigging. 

"Patience,  Jim,  old  boy.  You  can't  solve  these 
great  mysteries  of  life  which  confront  us  at  every 
crisis  of  our  existence,  by  jumping  off  the  handle. 
I  am  ready  to  tell  you,  however,  that  I  have 
hastily  turned  over  in  my  mind  such  data  as  you 
have  given  me,  and  I  find  that  you  have  blun- 
dered into  a  favorable  position.  It  will  not  do 
for  you  to  make  any  moves  without  consulting 
me,  however.  If  you  can  patiently  bear  up  while 
I  handle  the  case  for  you  for  a  few  days — " 

"You  may  handle  the  father  all  you  please,"  in- 
terrupted Jim,  "but  not  Gabrielle.  Everything  is 
quiet  at  that  end  of  the  line." 

"Of  course,"  said  I.  "I  would  be  no  good 
there.  Let  me  adjust  the  old  gentleman.  You 
may  be  thankful  that  the  trail  leads  to  a  whole- 
sale fish-market.  I  will  be  right  at  home  there. 
I  think  I  can  surprise  you." 


CHAPTER  V. 

JIM  shuffled  off  to  bed  after  receiving  my  as- 
surances of  support.  I  had  been  ex- 
tremely careful  to  keep  from  him  the 
knowledge  that  I  was  in  the  game  at  both  ends. 
In  five  minutes  he  was  asleep. 

Now  for  a  good  think  on  love,  murder,  political 
economy  and  fish.  No  sleep  for  me — just  a  good, 
long  think,  with  breakfast  at  6  A.  M.,  with  the 
correct  solution  as  snugly  stored  in  my  mind  as 
ten  cents  in  a  dime. 

First,  I  knew  nothing  about  the  Brownings  and 
cared  less.  They  didn't  figure  in  my  plans  at  all. 
My  purpose  was  to  startle  Pa  Tescheron  into  a 
full  knowledge  of  his  lunacy,  and  command  his 
appreciation  of  his  future  son-in-law. 

As  I  was  about  to  plunge  deeper  into  my  cogi- 
tations, I  picked  up  a  card  from  the  table  and  read 
it.  It  chilled  me  some,  but  only  for  a  minute.  It 
ran  like  this: 

69 


70        CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 


PATRICK  K.  COLLINS, 

UNDERTAKER    AND    EMBALMER, 

9  West  Tenth  Street,  New  York. 

Cremations  a  Specialty. 


I  had  heard  of  that  fellow  Collins,  a  notorious 
man  in  his  line.  His  specialty,  cremations,  re- 
moved all  possibility  of  pathological  or  toxico- 
logical  investigation  weeks  afterward,  when  pub- 
lic suspicion  became  aroused.  The  political  cor- 
oners were  supposed  to  be  partners  of  his  in  crime, 
and  the  police  had  tracked  many  a  case  through 
his  establishment  to  the  retorts  at  the  Fresh  Pond 
cremator)'-,  where  nothing  but  a  few  handfuls  of 
ashes  remained.  Was  there  to  be  a  cremation 
in  the  Browning  case?  Of  course,  I  asked  my- 
self that  question,  and  I  also  wondered  why  the 
sleuths  of  Smith's  had  not  reported  the  fact,  if  it 
were  a  fact,  to  the  hotel  headquarters.  If  they 
knew  it,  then  my  telegram  to  Mr.  Tescheron 
about  Coroner  Flanagan  telephoning  to  all  the 
cemeteries  and  his  further  purposes  need  not  cause 
alarm.  Perhaps  he  would  laugh  when  he  re- 
ceived it.  The  card  had  been  placed  there  during 
my  absence.  Jim  would  tell  me  about  it  in  the 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         71 

morning,  so  I  gave  the  matter  no  further  con- 
sideration. 

By  that  time,  12  o'clock,  the  detectives  must 
have  had  Tescheron  talked  tired,  I  guessed,  and 
he  was  probably  at  home  trying  to  figure  how  he 
might  escape  the  coroner's  ordeal  of  publicity  on 
the  morrow,  unless,  of  course,  they  knew  this  man 
cremated  his  victims  right  after  the  service. 

It  so  happened  that  the  detectives  had  him 
fairly  crazy.  When  he  read  my  message  he  was 
completely  daft.  Instead  of  working  out  my 
plans  carefully,  so  as  to  achieve  a  complete  fourth- 
act  reconciliation  by  6  o'clock,  I  spent  the  night 
answering  and  sending  messages  like  a  general 
looking  through  a  telescope  on  a  hill-top. 

The  first  lad  in  blue  uniform  came  just  about 
midnight  and  scared  me  a  little,  but  as  Jim  was 
not  disturbed,  all  was  well.  It  seems  that  instead 
of  going  to  bed,  Pa  Tescheron  took  a  new  start 
as  soon  as  he  read  my  message  about  notifying 
the  coroner.  Smith  was  called  again  to  meet  him 
at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  about  fifteen  minutes 
by  messenger  boy  from  my  headquarters.  Here 
is  the  first  message  from  General  Tescheron: 

"You  have  done  your  worst.  If  you  attempt 
to  expose  my  family,  I  will  have  you  prosecuted 


72        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

for  blackmail  and  punished  to  the  full  extent  of 
the  law.     Please  call  here  at  once. 

"TESCHERON." 

General  Hopkins  sent  this  back  by  return  boy : 

"Only  evidence  of  attempted  blackmail  in  this 
case  so  far  is  your  message  just  received.  I  will 
keep  it.  Is  Smith  also  your  lawyer?  He's  a 
bird.  Thanks,  but  I  never  go  calling  after  mid- 
night. Please  accept  my  regrets. 

"HOPKINS." 

I  kept  copies  of  the  answers  also,  for  I  didn't 
know  how  far  Smith  and  his  bureau  might  carry 
this  fanatic,  for  they  seemed  to  have  touched  him 
where  he  was  as  tender  as  a  wet  spot  on  a  paper 
napkin. 

This  came  back  in  half  an  hour : 

"Your  course  is  incomprehensible  to  me.  You 
seem  to  take  this  matter  as  a  joke.  It  may  be 
necessary  for  me  to  let  the  law  take  its  course  to 
achieve  my  purpose.  I  do  not  fear  your  threats. 
Please  call  and  talk  it  over.  TESCHERON." 

Of  course,  he  didn't  fear  the  exposure,  for  he 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         73 

knew  what  a  smart  lot  of  detectives  he  had.  But 
he  knew,  according  to  my  analysis  of  the  work- 
ings of  his  superheated  brain,  that  the  few  times 
he  had  been  real  mad  in  his  life  and  had  trusted 
to  his  impulses,  he  had  gone  deep  into  the  mire 
of  expense  or  ridicule.  Some  of  the  skeletons  of 
these  experiences  were  beginning  to  rattle  in  op- 
position to  the  oft-repeated  easy  solution  of 
Smith,  who  had  been  stoking  that  inflamed  head 
since  2  p.  M.  with  the  kind  of  gore  which  kept  it 
ablaze.  Tescheron  was  certainly  getting  a  fine 
run  for  his  money,  and  he  had  seemed  to  lose 
sight  of  the  fact  that  Smith  was  filling  the  part  of 
bookmaker  and  taking  his  pile. 
I  replied: 

"This  is  no  joke.  Wait  until  you  get  Smith's 
bill.  Hope  you  have  a  good  picture  of  yourself 
for  the  papers  ? — it  saves  the  disgrace  of  a  sketch 
from  life.  They  are  bound  to  make  your  wife 
and  daughter  look  well.  I  have  just  laid  aside 
a  half  dozen  of  our  portraits  for  publication. 
Seems  as  if  we  would  have  pleasant  weather  for 
the  coroner's  party  to-morrow.  Don't  miss  it — 
or  they'll  drag  you  there  in  the  hurry-up  wagon. 

"HOPKINS." 


74        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

I  guessed  he  couM  see  I  wasn't  rattled  and  was 
sticking  close  to  my  method  of  play.  He  could 
see  that  a  thirty-year-old  was  no  ordinary  lad  of 
the  fish-market,  to  get  excited  when  the  boss 
turned  red  from  boiling.  This  renewed  activity 
on  his  part,  however,  threw  me  clear  off  the  track 
that  was  to  fetch  me  up  at  6  A.  M.  with  the  whole 
business  settled. 

The  murderer,  who  had  comfortably  thrown 
his  burdens  on  me,  in  the  meantime,  snored  again 
with  a  regularity  and  smoothness  which  proved 
he  had  banished  all  thought  of  his  first  wife  and 
was  preparing  his  trousseau  for  a  comfortable 
wedding,  with  Pa  Tescheron  controlled  and  de- 
livered by  me  at  the  altar,  ready  to  speak  his  little 
piece. 

It  was  a  shame  for  Tescheron  to  keep  those 
boys  running  all  night,  but  he  did.  This  came 
next: 

"I'll  have  my  men  at  the  autopsy,  but  I  shall 
not  be  there,  so  you  see  our  pictures  will  not  be 
printed,  as  you  seem  to  fear.  I  do  not  under- 
stand you.  Don't  you  realize  what  your  position 
is  if  this  crime  is  revealed?  Do  not  delay  fur- 
ther, but  come  at  once.  TESCHERON/' 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         75 

In  my  next  I  assured  him  ,*hat  all  our  pictures 
would  be  printed,  for  he  would  be  served  by  sub- 
poena from  the  coroner,  unless  he  and  his  family 
left  the  State  before  8  o'clock. 

And  so  it  went,  till  finally  I  sent  him  a  line 
saying  that  I  would  guard  the  murderer  all  night 
and  meet  him  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  at  9 
A.  M.  on  my  way  to  the  coroner's. 

Then  I  turned  in  and  forgot  all  Jim's  troubles. 
It  must  have  been  about  4  A.  M. 

Now,  if  early  that  evening  I  had  learned  my 
lesson,  I  might  have  minded  my  own  business, 
gone  to  bed  early,  and,  like  a  wise  man,  awakened 
early  and  left  the  house  before  it  all  happened. 

It  was  just  as  I  had  predicted  a  hundred  times, 
so  I  was  not  surprised  afterward  when  I  learned 
how  it  was.  A  short  time  after  I  went  to  sleep, 
Jim  was  overcome  by  the  fidgets  again  and  took 
one  of  those  Turkish  baths  invented  by  his  home 
folks.  This  style  of  bath  was  pure  turkey.  It 
was  a  regular  turkey  gobbler  system  of  bathing 
and  I  had  never  heard  the  like  of  it  before  I  be- 
gan to  live  with  Jim.  The  way  to  know  a  man 
is  to  live  with  him  when  he's  in  love.  It  was 
different  in  a  number  of  ways  from  any  country 
custom  I  had  ever  heard  of  up  North,  but  all  Jim's 
folks  did  it  regularly,  so  he  had  told  me,  because, 


76        CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

they  thought  it  was  the  greatest  thing  in  the 
world  for  a  person  who  felt  out  of  sorts.  I  had 
been  over  to  his  house  many  and  many  a  time,  but 
it  so  happened  that  I  never  saw  his  dad  or  his 
ma,  or  in  fact  any  of  them,  sitting  on  their  kitchen 
stove. 

Jim  rigged  up  the  bath  in  our  flat  kitchen  with 
a  lot  of  care.  First  he  would  take  our  set  of  three 
sad-irons — the  kind  that  are  run  with  the  same 
handle,  especially  designed  to  press  trousers  under 
a  wet  rag — and  he  would  put  them  on  top  of  the 
range,  one  under  each  leg  of  a  chair  as  far  as 
they  would  go,  and  an  old  tin  cup  bottom-side-up 
under  the  fourth  leg.  He  was  always  particular 
to  have  a  cane  seat  in  the  chair  and  a  piping  hot 
fire  in  the  range. 

Then  he  would  simplify  his  toilet  till  he  got  it 
about  as  we  used  to  have  it  before  diving  into 
the  old  swimming-hole.  When  he  had  reached 
that  point,  he  brought  out  a  dark-colored  quilt 
with  a  white  ruffle  all  around  the  edge.  (We 
liked  dark  quilts  and  had  quite  a  number  that 
never  seemed  to  need  washing.)  In  the  middle 
of  this  quilt  he  had  cut  a  hole,  just  large  enough 
to  poke  his  head  through  and  be  snug  about  the 
neck.  When  he  got  that  on  he  pulled  on  a  pair 
of  old  slippers  that  he  had  tacked  tin  soles  onto. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN        77 

The  next  and  last  piece  to  the  harness  was  his 
red  and  blue  worsted  toboggan  cap  with  a  long 
peak  minus  the  tassel — it  was  very  necessary  for 
the  head  to  get  the  full  benefit  or  you'd  catch 
cold.  This  cap  he  pulled  down  well  over  his 
head  and  ears,  and  then  he  stood  on  a  box  and 
mounted  the  fiery  throne,  sitting  down  mighty 
easy  while  spreading  the  quilt  over  the  back  of 
the  chair,  and  holding  it  out  well  so  that  the 
pointed  ends  were  as  close  to  the  lids  as  possible 
to  keep  the  cold  air  of  the  room  off  his  shin  bones. 

It  sort  of  reminded  me  of  an  old  turkey  gob- 
bler; I  don't  know  why,  for  it  was  such  a  serious 
business  with  Jim,  and  he  looked  so  glum.  But 
with  the  pointed  ends  dragging,  he  seemed  to  be 
strutting,  and  when  he  got  heated  up  nicely  and 
began  to  drip  on  the  hot  lids,  the  "hist"  noise  it 
made  was  just  the  same  as  an  old  gobbler's. 

I've  known  him  to  swelter  there  in  his  turkey 
bath  till  he  fairly  sizzled,  "hissing"  like  the  proud- 
est gobbler  on  the  farm,  and  then  step  off  easy 
onto  the  box,  jump  into  bed,  pull  a  heap  of  blan- 
kets over  him  and  enjoy  a  good  wilt. 

It  is  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that 
the  quilt  caught  fire  without  Jim  noticing  it  And 
thus  ended  our  housekeeping. 

I  woke  up  six  weeks  later  in  a  hospital. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  circus  side-shows  used  to  exhibit  speci- 
mens of  the  human  family  who  were 
nothing  but  head.  They  had  been  sliced 
off  clean  at  the  neck  and  rested  comfortably  with 
the  stump  on  a  parlor  table.  The  underside  had 
evidently  healed  over  nicely  without  corns,  for 
they  were  the  most  amiable  and  smiling  people 
you  would  find  in  the  whole  show.  Spectators 
were  not  allowed  within  six  feet  of  these  people 
in  reduced  circumstances,  for  it  was  plainly  desir- 
able that  no  one  should  kick  the  table  over  or 
playfully  tap  them  to  see  if  they  were  really  alive. 
Sceptics  in  the  crowd  said  that  mirrors  did  it.  A 
razor  might  have  done  it,  for  all  I  cared.  It  gave 
me  joy  as  a  boy  to  think  how  it  would  feel  to  be 
only  head  and  decorate  a  table.  Brains  certainly 
counted  with  them — they  were  always  on  top. 
And  if  they  trained  their  tongues  to  run  out  and 
wash  their  faces  and  comb  their  hair,  a  valet 
would  not  be  necessary.  I've  seen  a  man  with 

78 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN        79 

no  legs  find  a  way  to  jump  on  a  Broadway  car 
and  a  man  without  arms  can't  be  kept  from  play- 
ing the  piano  with  his  toes.  This  is  because  hu- 
man nature  has  such  a  persistent  way  of  trying  to 
do  the  difficult  thing,  usually  with  wonderful  suc- 
cess. Man  can't  fly  nor  be  a  fish  naturally,  but 
he  wants  to  know  how  it  would  feel,  and  so  he 
makes  some  startling  flights  and  dives  at  doing 
both. 

Well,  I  never  tried  falling  out  of  a  five-story 
window  before  just  to  see  how  it  felt,  but  I  got 
the  sensation  by  doing  it  without  trying.  My 
first  knowledge  after  the  act  was  the  sensation 
of  carbolic  acid  making  an  appeal  to  my  best- 
educated  sense.  That  is  all  I  knew  for  a  long, 
long  time — probably  a  year  or  two ;  then  I  began 
to  have  larger  ideas,  but  not  very  broad  or  deep. 
I  began  to  feel  that  I  was  just  a  head,  and  from 
this  I  figured  it  was  all  over  with  me  on  earth,  and 
I  was  starting  in  to  be  a  young  angel.  At  first,  I 
was  to  be  only  a  small  angel,  just  a  cherub,  with 
nothing  but  a  fat  head  and  two  little  wings  about 
as  big  as  your  hand  spreading  out  from  under 
each  ear.  I  tried  to  bend  an  ear  down  or  cast  an 
eye  to  feel  or  see  if  the  wings  had  started,  for  as 
I  thought  of  my  condition  I  imagined  a  couple  of 
inflamed  lumps  were  swelling  where  the  wing- 


80        CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

roots  ought  to  be.     But  the  ears  were  stiff  and 
the  eyes  would  not  reach  around  so  far. 

The  wing-boils  made  me  feel  a  little  colicky ;  I 
don't  know  why,  for  there  was  no  substantial 
excuse  for  a  case  of  colic,  as  I  was  all  gone  below 
the  collar.  Winging,  I  concluded,  was  like  teeth- 
ing. Infant  angels  naturally  felt  colicky  for  some 
time  before  they  cut  their  ear-wings.  By-and-by, 
the  little  wings  would,  no  doubt,  drop  out,  and 
the  second  wings  would  come  in  at  the  shoulder- 
blades,  when  I  sprouted  out  below  and  took  on 
shoulders  with  blades. 

I  slept,  and  slept,  and  the  wings  began  to  un- 
fold and  feather  up  nicely,  but  they  were  too  sore 
to  flap  yet  and  the  feathers  were  mostly  pin  size 
and  very  fluffy.  Only  at  the  top  there  were  just 
a  few  that  you  might  say  had  real  quills  on  as  yet. 
The  carbolic  acid  kept  getting  stronger.  I  fan- 
cied it  must  be  what  young  angels  cry  for.  Why 
they  should  sprinkle  so  much  of  it  around  me,  I 
didn't  understand  at  first,  but  as  I  got  to  thinking 
about  it  I  concluded  that  an  Inspector  of  Offen- 
sive Trades  would  need  it  good  and  plenty,  like 
Tescheron  needed  his  cologne. 
f  It  must  have  been  six  months,  so  I  then 
thought,  after  I  had  cut  my  first  set  of  wings,  that 
to  think  about  getting  weaned,  for  I  was 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN        81 

a  bottle  angel  and  I  was  getting  almighty  tired 
of  watery  victuals,  and  besides,  I  was  losing  my 
appetite  for  the  rubber  tap.  The  reason  I  didn't 
get  a  cookie  or  a  chicken  bone,  I  figured,  was  be- 
cause I  was  now  handling  everything  in  my  crop, 
and  it  wouldn't  do  to  crowd  it  too  hard  or  I  might 
choke — the  overload  point  being  very  close  to  the 
choker. 

Well,  I  had  never  in  all  my  worldly  career 
wanted  a  cracker  so  badly.  If  they  had  thrown  in 
some  sweitzerkase  or  a  Yankee  sardine  I  would 
have  been  pleased ;  of  course,  I  understood  that  it 
would  be  all  out  of  order  to  call  for  a  glass  of 
beer.  Still,  if  there  were  any  soft  drinks  I  would 
like  a  "horse's  neck,"  promising  to  sip  it  so  as  not 
to  get  drowned  in  it. 

By  and  by,  I  began  to  feel  an  awful  thirst  for 
something  sour.  Would  it  be  in  order  for  a 
small  angel  to  have  a  pickle  to  cut  his  wings  on  ? 
If  so,  I  prayed,  please  let  me  have  a  jar  of  the 
mustard  variety,  full  of  red  peppers  and  other  em- 
phatic food. 

My  eyesight  began  to  improve,  and  after  many 
years  of  craving  for  a  pickle  I  began  to  see  them 
in  all  sorts  and  sizes,  dripping  with  delicious  vine- 
gar and  aromatic  of  tasty  cloves  and  cinnamon. 
There  was  no  way  for  me  to  reach  them.  When 


82         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

I  tired  of  trying  I  would  drop  into  nothingness 
again.  By-and-by  these  lapses  seemed  to  give  me 
strength.  The  floating  pickles  grew  smaller  and 
faded  away  and  I  began  to  discern  the  dim  out- 
line of  pillows,  bed-clothes  and  bed-posts,  and  the 
four  walls  of  a  narrow  room.  I  burst  the  chains 
of  bondage  one  morning  by  saying : 

"Pickle,  please;  pickle,  pickle!" 

A  consultation  of  the  house  staff  and  the  lead- 
ing members  of  the  advisory  corps  was  called  im- 
mediately, and  grouped  around  my  bed  they  for- 
mally voted  that  this  was  excellent  for  so  young 
an  angel.  The  vote  was  not  unanimous,  as  one 
of  the  doctors  present  gallantly  led  a  strong  oppo- 
sition. He  tried  hard  to  have  his  motion  carried. 
His  motion  was  to  lay  the  subject  on  the  table  (in 
the  operating  room)  and  take  time  to  go  into  it 
deeper  before  deciding. 

When  the  learned  men  had  gone  away,  my 
mother  angel  (angel  is  the  only  word  good  enough 
for  her),  in  a  starchy  blue  and  white  uniform, 
leaned  over  close  to  my  lips  and  I  saw  her  smile 
in  such  a  lovely  way,  shake  her  head  and  press  a 
finger  to  her  lips  as  she  gently  lifted  me  and  drew 
a  smooth,  cool  pillow  under  my  tired  head.  But 
she  did  not  speak.  She  placed  a  screen  before  the 
window  and  I  fell  asleep. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         83 

The  next  time  I  saw  my  mother  angel  she  was 
laughing  at  me  softly  while  looking  over  the  foot 
of  the  bed.  I  was  able  to  respond  by  raising  my 
eyebrows  and  turning  my  creaking  neck  on  its 
rusty  hinge  toward  the  sunshine  that  brought  the 
glory  of  life  into  the  room  through  a  broad  win- 
dow. 

"Good  morning,  ma'am,"  I  said,  not  venturing 
to  be  too  familiar  with  the  lady,  for  I  was 
at  once  struck  with  my :  inferiority  to  this  saint- 
ly vision. 

"Good  morning,  sir.  Do  you  feel  well  to- 
day?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  I ;  "I  have  never  been  ill." 

A  low,  pleasant  laugh,  like  the  soft  trill  of  a 
muffled  music  box,  greeted  my  statement. 

"I  believe  you,"  she  said.  "You  will  soon  be 
out  again." 

"Am  I  in?    Where  am  I  in?" 

"This  is  Bellevue  Hospital,"  said  she.  "But 
you'll  soon  be  gone  from  here.  You're  as  tough 
and  strong  as  rawhide  and  wrought  iron." 

Here  was  a  woman  who  could  size  me  up.  I 
took  her  wdrd  for  it  and  tried  to  turn  over  and 
get  up,  but  nothing  happened. 

"Tush,  tush !  Don't  get  lively  now !  Think 
what  you've  been  through.  Take  it  easy.  Dr. 


84         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

Hanley  says  you  are  a  wonderful  fellow ;  that  he 
will  always  be  proud  of  you." 

"Is  the  pickle  coming?"  I  asked  expectantly, 
as  if  I  had  heard  it  knock  on  the  door. 

"Yes,  it's  coming,"  she  laughed.  "But  it  won't 
get  here  this  week.  Here's  something  that  is  a 
good  deal  better." 

She  squeezed  out  a  thimbleful  of  orange  juice 
and  placed  it  in  a  low  cup  with  a  long  snout  like 
a  locomotive  oil  can,  designed  to  poke  in  out-of- 
the-way  places.  With  this  device  she  was  able 
to  get  through  my  beard  and  find  my  mouth.  As 
she  gently  tipped  it,  the  goodly  nectar  trickled 
upon  my  desert  tongue,  to  be  quickly  evaporated 
in  that  arid  area  before  it  reached  far  along  the 
parched  wastes.  I  wanted  to  swim  in  it,  but 
these  hospitals  provide  poor  entertainment  for 
their  patrons. 

"Pretty  flowers  there,"  said  I,  pointing  to  a 
great  mass  of  roses  and  orchids,  showing  the 
freshness  of  recent  arrival. 

"Oh,  she  hasn't  forgotten  you" ;  and  her  large 
blue  eyes  danced  playfully  as  she  said  it.  I  could 
see  that  those  blue  eyes  would  aggravate  me  yet, 
but  I  wanted  to  linger  forever  under  the  spell  of 
their  teasing. 

"Who  sent  them  ?"  I  asked  in  surprise. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         85 

"Miss  Tescheron." 

I  was  about  to  say  that  I  didn't  know  the  lady, 
but  I  decided  that  the  plot  was  too  thick  for  a 
brain  foddered  on  orange  juice  by  the  drop  through 
a  dripper,  so  I  just  threw  the  complications  all 
over,  willing  to  bide  my  time.  Some  accident 
had  tossed  me  upon  this  bed  of  bruises,  but  I  was 
pulling  out  and  I  gritted  my  bridge-work,  deter- 
mined to  get  out  as  quickly  as  possible  and  pick 
up  my  tasks  again. 

The  following  morning  I  felt  like  a  new  man. 
I  could  actually  reach  out  for  my  food.  Eighteen 
hours  of  sound  sleep  had  put  abundant  life,  hope 
and  courage  into  me. 

"What  a  fine  color  you  have!"  said  the  cheery 
nurse. 

"That  braces  me,"  said  I.  "But  what  I  want 
to  get  at  is  this :  How  did  I  come  to  get  here  ? 
How  long  have  I  been  here?  How  long  must  I 
stay  here?" 

And  she  laughed  joyously,  jacking  me  up  sev- 
eral notches  in  spirits  and  at  the  back  with  the 
pillows. 

"The  doctor  says  I  may  tell  you,"  she  began. 
"He  left  just  before  you  awoke.  The  three  upper 
stories  of  your  house  were  burned  out  early  that 
morning,  six  weeks  ago,  and  the  house  next  door 


86        CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

was  also  damaged.  You  must  be  strong  while 
I  tell  you  this,  will  you?  You  were  thrown  out 
of  the  fifth-story  window  while  you  were  uncon- 
scious. You  fell  on  the  outspread  net  held  by  the 
firemen,  but  you  were  badly  injured  by  striking 
against  the  ironwork  of  the  fire-escapes  that  were 
rendered  useless  because  the  flames  were  so  great ; 
it  was  a  quick  fire.  I  got  the  story  from  the 
ambulance  doctors.  You  have  been  wavering  be- 
tween life  and  death  ever  since,  almost,  although 
about  the  third  week  you  seemed  to  begin  to  mend 
slowly.  Are  you  comfortable  now  ?" 

"Where  is  Hosley  ?  Is  he  in  jail  ?  Hasn't  he 
been  here  to  see  me?  Was  he  hurt?  Was  he 
killed?  Hasn't  he  written  to  me?" 

"My  heavens!  Why  do  you  ask  me  is  he  in 
jail,  and  all  those  questions?  Who  is  Hosley, 
pray?  Is  he  a  jail-bird?  And  are  you  only  a 
jail-bird?  Why  do  you  begin  to  talk  about  jail 
so  soon? 

She  was  born  to  nurse  the  ill  and  tease  well 
folks,  and  she  saw  I  was  better  and  could  stand  it. 

"How  about  those  flowers?"  I  asked.  "How  is 
it  she  brings  flowers  to  me?" 

"Oh,  my!  Oh,  my!  Well,  I  never  heard  a 
man  complain  of  the  devotion  of  a  beautiful 
woman.  Dear  me,  you  are  a  fortunate  man ;  and 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         87 

she  must  have  lots  of  money,  too.  Orchids 
like  those  are  three  dollars.  You  can  get  them 
for  seventy-five  cents  each,  but  not  that  kind.  Did 
you  ever  price  roses  like  that  ?  Just  look  at  them ! 
Um,  how  sweet — how  I  love  them !  A  two-dollar 
bill  blooms  on  every  one  of  them.  Isn't  that  de- 
votion for  you !  And  how  does  she  come  to  send 
them  to  you?  Well,  now!  What  a  hard  shell 
there  must  be  on  your  heart!  What  a  pity  the 
fall  didn't  crack  it!" 

As  she  talked  she  busied  herself  about  the 
room;  it  was  a  bare,  antiseptic  spot,  fragrant  of 
carbolic  and  formaldehyde.  I  could  see  that  she 
was  chaffing  me;  but  I  let  her  have  her  way  in 
this,  just  as  she  ruled  the  diet,  the  naps  and  the 
airings. 

Why  should  I  lie  for  six  weeks  in  a  hospital 
without  Jim  Hosley  coming  to  see  me  ?  thought  I. 
Why  hadn't  he  insisted  on  sleeping  on  the  mat  just 
outside  the  door  if  they  would  not  let  him  in? 
Why  had  he  not  sent  notes  hourly  to  learn  of  my 
condition?  Why  had  I  been  left  to  strangers? 
There  could  be  no  excuse  for  this,  even  though 
he  were  in  jail,  for  he  could  at  least  write  me. 
If  he  were  dead,  killed  in  the  fire,  Miss  Tescheron 
would  have  told  the  nurse,  for  had  she  not  brought 
me  flowers  ?  Had  he  been  injured  she  would  cer- 


88        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

tainly  have  told  the  nurse  about  us.  He  had  not 
been  near  me.  He  must,  therefore,  have  skipped. 
In  that  case  he  must  be  all  that  Tescheron  had  pic- 
tured him  to  me.  But  why  had  Tescheron  placed 
such  confidence  in  Smith,  whom  he  had  known 
for  such  a  short  time?  That  was  certainly  not 
like  a  shrewd  business  man.  Of  course,  I  under- 
stood how  anxious  Tescheron  was  to  get  damag- 
ing evidence  against  Hosley ;  but  what  had  Smith 
shown  him?  Why  had  he  taken  no  further  in- 
terest in  me?  Hosley  must  have  skipped  and 
Tescheron  must  have  settled  down,  believing  that 
no  more  would  be  heard  of  him.  Miss  Tescheron 
was  still  devoted  to  Jim,  because  she  was  sending 
me  flowers.  She  still  hoped  to  reach  him  through 
me  and  prove  him  innocent.  But  I  would  dis- 
courage her.  I  would  not  let  her  throw  herself 
away  on  that  fellow.  If  he  were  not  a  wretch 
he  would  have  been  there  to  see  me;  and  if  he 
were  helpless  as  I  was,  then  Miss  Tescheron 
would  be  devoted  to  him  and  would  have  told  the 
nurse  about  us,  as  she  was  enough  interested  in 
me  to  send  me  these  beautiful  flowers — me,  whom 
she  had  never  spoken  to.  And  so  it  wound  around 
in  my  weak  head. 

It  was  hard  to  believe  this  of  Jim  Hosley,  that 
great  lumbering  hulk  of  humanity.     How  had  he 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         89 

been  able  to  assume  that  childish  air  and  play  the 
part  with  me,  a  shrewd,  calculating  observer  of 
men,  whose  advice  he  always  sought?  Such  vil- 
lainy seemed  to  me  to  be  beyond  the  art  of  any 
actor,  and  it  certainly  seemed  to  be  a  superlative 
degree  of  crime  and  deception  impossible  in  real 
life.  I  remembered  that  he  had  shown  some  un- 
easiness that  night  when  I  started  for  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel,  and  there  was  the  card  of  the  no- 
torious undertaker,  the  ally  of  some  of  our  worst 
criminals.  Still,  this  was  not  connected  with  him 
and  could  not  be  regarded  as  damaging.  When 
two  bachelors  are  so  wedded,  is  it  possible  for  one 
to  deceive  the  other  ?  Married  men  had  before  this 
deceived  clever  wives.  Could  this  companion  to 
whom  I  would  have  trusted  my  life  have  deserted 
me  at  the  moment  of  danger  when  I  lay  there 
overcome  by  smoke?  Who  tossed  me  from  the 
window?  Quickly  I  put  that  question  to  the 
nurse. 

"There  now,"  she  said  with  a  cautioning1  shake 
of  her  pretty  head;  "if  you  are  going  to  keep 
thinking  about  that  and  get  all  upset,  we  won't 
let  you  out  of  here  for  a  year — it  was  a  fireman, 
perhaps;  but  what  matters  it?" 

The  bravery  of  a  plain  fireman  mattered  not, 
T  thought.  They  must  save  lives  as  a  business; 


90         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

chums,  friends,  they  may  slink  away  and  leave 
you  to  a  horrible  death. 

Jim  Hosley  was  all  that  Tescheron  had  painted 
him,  and  yet  there  were  doubts  in  my  mind.  But 
these  doubts  were  soon  removed. 


CHAPTER  VII 

FOR  nearly  five  weeks  after  regaining  com- 
plete consciousness  I  lived  and  gathered 
strength  in  that  bare  and  polished  room 
at  the  hospital.  Dust  found  no  place  to  stick 
there,  it  was  all  so  slippery,  and  the  flies  were  dis- 
couraged when  they  came  in  and  found  it  so  mis- 
erably antiseptic.  The  food  was  sterilized  and 
peptonized  until  there  was  nothing  a  fly  could 
find  in  my  pre-digested  tid-bits  to  snuggle  up  to — 
it  was  just  like  licking  the  plaster  off  the  wall  or 
biting  the  glazed,  enameled  paint  on  the  bed.  The 
enameled  iron  furniture  seemed  to  be  made  to 
order  without  cracks,  and  there  were  no  tidies  or 
fancy  work  about.  Any  insect  that  came  in, 
slipped  around  until  he  figured  it  was  a  toboggan 
slide  and  a  mighty  poor  place  to  spend  the  day. 

"Please  send  out  for  all  the  newspapers  contain- 
ing accounts  of  the  fire  and  let  me  read  them," 
I  requested  one  day  soon  after  my  wits  improved. 

"No,  indeed ;  I  shall  not.     Reading  is  the  worst 
91 


92         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

thing  you  could  do,"   said  Hygeia.     "You  are 
gaining  and  must  take  no  risks." 

So  it  went.  There  was  no  one  to  obey  me.  I 
brooded  over  my  hard  luck.  But  life  would  have 
been  wholly  dismal  in  such  a  room  without  the 
companionship  of  one  of  those  inspiring  daugh- 
ters of  Hygeia.  Now  that  I  am  beyond  the  con- 
fines of  that  room  I  must  confess  there  seems  to 
be  little  in  life  anywhere  without  one.  Bachelors 
are  quickly  restored  by  their  antitoxin  cheer,  but 
there  is  a  more  dangerous  bacillus  hidden  in  this 
powerful  living  therapeutic  agency  which  in  after- 
years  works  its  damaging,  enervating  effect  in 
the  heart  of  a  man.  They  save  but  to  slay !  Can 
there  be  no  healing  balm  benign  in  a  woman's 
tender  sympathy?  Cannot  the  microbe  of  re- 
morse be  isolated  from  this  serum  beautifully  ad- 
ministered by  melting  eyes  and  graces  so  fair  that 
we  wonder  to  find  them  so  near  our  bitterest  ex- 
periences? But  there  are  wounds  that  will  not 
heal;  some  mysterious  infection  lingers  in  them 
to  sustain  a  slow  fire,  and  the  ashes  of  its  discon- 
tent clog  the  channels  till  life  seems  cast  in  the 
vale  of  death. 

But  no  more  of  this  anguish !  I  have  not  told 
her  name — in  this,  at  least,  I  shall  be  wise.  I 
have  not  told  of  her  family;  why  she  became  a 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         93 

daughter  of  ^-Esculapius ;  and  beyond  those  dan- 
cing blue  eyes,  she  shall  not  enter  here.  Neither 
shall  anything  be  written  of  the  things  that  passed 
between  us  during  those  five  weeks  of  my  con- 
valescence. What  matters  it?  Was  I  not  in  the 
world  simply  to  be  tempered  and  hardened  by  all 
the  adversities  to  which  a  heart  may  .be  sub- 
jected ?  And  was  I  not  an  inhuman  wretch,  who 
touched  with  the  sting  of  sarcasm,  ridicule  and 
scorn  the  vital  things  that  interest  normal  beings  ? 
To  me  she  became  only  Hygeia — but  a  goddess ! 

What  a  man  needs  at  thirty  years  is  mirth  more 
abundantly  than  at  twenty,  but  the  clouds  were 
too  thick  around  me  then  to  take  sane  views.  Con- 
tentment comes  when  a  man  can  shake  the  clouds 
inside  out  and  bask  in  the  reflection  of  the  silver 
lining  that  makes  the  other  half  of  the  comedy 
agreeable.  I  seemed  to  be  plunged  in  despair,  to 
be  confined  in  a  dungeon,  with  the  devils  of  hate 
and  all  the  monsters  of  abandoned  hopes  shooting 
their  tongues  at  me  from  the  crannies  of  the 
damp,  green  walls  that  hedged  me  in.  Were  they 
to  be  my  torturers  to  the  death  ?  Then  why  send 
a  sick  man  to  the  hospital? 

Even  though  my  mind  had  been  at  peace  other- 
wise, it  would  have  been  impossible  for  me  to 
regain  my  habit  of  unconcern  and  reliance  upon 


94         CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

my  own  resources,  deserted  by  the  man  in  whom 
I  had  anchored  my  faith  since  boyhood.  Thought 
of  his  guilt  oppressed  me. 

"Which  would  you  rather  go  to — a  wedding  or 
a  hanging?"  I  abruptly  questioned  the  nurse,  wak- 
ing from  a  troubled  nap. 

"Calm  yourself  all  you  can.  You  are  not  so 
well  to-day." 

"I  am  beginning  to  think  better  of  a  hanging," 
said  I.  "It  seems  like  a  sure  thing,  so  it's  well  to 
get  used  to  it." 

"Tut,  tut !"  said  Hygeia  softly,  adjusting  a  cold 
cloth  to  my  brow.  She  reported  to  the  doctor 
that  I  was  wandering  again.  But  I  wasn't  crazy. 
I  was  looking  for  consolation. 

The  detectives  had  reported  Jim  with  the  un- 
dertakers in  the  same  carriage  that  night,  while  I 
was  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  and  the  card  of 
the  notorious  Collins,  whose  specialty,  cremations, 
removed  all  traces  of  such  crime,  lay  on  the  table. 
I  waited  to  inquire  about  the  card  until  the  next 
morning.  The  morning  came  and  here  I  was. 
alive,  but  hardly  thankful  for  my  escape.  Why 
was  it,  I  asked  myself,  that  the  only  two  circum- 
stances, the  carriage  and  the  card,  that  pointed 
with  any  directness  to  Jim  Hosley's  guilt,  should 
have  come  under  my  notice  the  same  night? 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN        95 

Why,  if  he  had  deceived  me  for  years,  should  he 
leave  a  damaging  card  where  it  could  be  seen  by 
me  at  a  time  when  he  was  deep  in  one  of  his  most 
awful  crimes?  But,  on  the  other  hand,  had  he 
not  fooled  me  for  ten  years?  So  why  should  he 
be  careful  about  the  mere  card  of  an  undertaker  ? 
How  did  he  know  where  I  had  gone  that  night 
to  be  enlightened  ?  Still,  why  did  he  squirm  and 
appear  so  uneasy  when  I  went  out  ?  Was  it  only 
because  he  had  so  much  to  tell  me  about  his  dis- 
appointment over  the  interview  with  Mr.  Tesch- 
eron?  Certainly,  that  must  be  it.  Then  came 
the  last  "but"  of  all — Why  didn't  he  come  to  see 
me,  or  why  had  I  not  heard  from  him?  If  Jim 
Hosley  had  been  devoted  to  me  like  a  loyal  friend 
there  was  no  possible  way  for  me  not  to  have 
heard  from  him  before  this.  Any  man  in  his 
right  mind  could  take  the  same  state  of  facts  and 
reach  no  other  conclusion.  Suspicion  had  worked 
its  way  through  narrow  openings,  and  my  doubts 
were  giving  way  to  convictions,  so  that  soon  I 
believed  I  would  be  as  much  against  Hosley  as 
the  fiery  Tescheron,  when  goaded  by  the  mer- 
cenary Smith. 

I  cannot  tell  how  hard  it  was  for  me  to  believe 
this  of  Jim  Hosley,  that  great,  lumbering  fellow, 
handsome  and  manly,  the  personification  of  com- 


96 

fortable,  attractive  indolence  and  agreeable  in- 
difference. 

"Pity  you  never  saw  Hosley,"  said  I  to  Hygeia. 
She  was  now  prepared  to  hear  me  speak  of  him 
at  any  time. 

"What  did  he  look  like?  Dark  and  swarthy; 
rather  short,  I  imagine,  with  curly,  black  hair." 

"Turn  that  upside  down,  inside  out  and  stretch 
it  and  you'll  have  it,"  said  I. 

She  laughed  and  left  the  room. 

What  a  charming  fellow  Jim  was  to  get  on 
with!  Perhaps  those  virtues  had  been  his  re- 
sources in  a  wild  career  of  crime  and  his  strongest 
allies  in  effecting  a  concealment  of  his  true  self. 
Thus  my  analytical  mind  threshed  out  the  ramifi- 
cations of  possibilities.  My  intimate  relations 
with  him  for  so  many  years  further  convinced 
me  that  if  he  had  followed  that  long  career  of 
crime  outlined  by  Tescheron  he  must  have  begun 
when  he  was  playing  "Injuns"  up  in  Oswegatchie 
County. 

Then  I  would  cheer  myself  with  the  thought 
that  something  in  Jim's  favor  would  turn  up  soon 
and  all  would  be  well  again,  and  we  would  get  a 
new  outfit  of  stuff  for  about  eighty-five  dollars — 
that's  what  we  paid  before — and  start  in  house- 
keeping again ;  perhaps  on  the  second  floor,  so  as 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN        97 

to  get  in  line  with  the  inexorable  law  of  falling 
bodies. 

Mr.  Tescheron,  I  supposed,  would  somehow 
blame  Jim  for  the  fire  and  count  it  part  of  the 
grand  plot  to  seize  his  daughter.  Well,  it  was  all 
too  much  for  me,  with  my  weak  body  and  easily 
fatigued  brain.  It  was  hard  work  to  keep  my 
nerves  calm  under  the  circumstances. 

My  brother  Silas  had  come  down  to  see  me, 
but  when  I  began  to  mend  he  returned  to  Oswe- 
gatchie  County,  completely  worn  out  with  three 
weeks'  tramping  on  city  sidewalks.  He  made  a 
number  of  inquiries  for  me  concerning  Hosley  at 
the  City  Hall  and  among  our  old  neighbors.  He 
could  learn  nothing,  however,  so  it  was  clear  that 
Jim  had  departed  for  parts  unknown.  Silas  car- 
ried back  the  news  of  my  returning  health  to  the 
folks,  and  was  also  able  to  inform  them  that  the 
cars  ran  all  night  down  here  in  New  York — a 
matter  they  had  never  seen  reported  in  the  papers 
and  I  had  never  referred  to  in  my  letters.  When 
he  left,  I  was  as  lonesome  as  a  retired  pork  packer 
dabbling  in  the  fine  arts.  It  seemed  that 

"Turn  where'er  I  may  I  find 
Thorns  where  roses  bloomed  before 
O'er  the  green  fields  of  my  soul ; 


98        CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

.Where  the  springs  of  joy  were  found, 

Now  the  clouds  of  sorrow  roll, 
Shading  all  the  prospect  round." 

These  lines  of  George  P.  Morris  came  to  mind, 
and  they,  too,  recalled  Jim  Hosley  and  the  early 
days  when  I  began  to  be  the  middleman  in  his  love 
affairs,  and  gave  my  aid  to  his  amorous  cause  by 
writing  his  love  letters.  I  had  worked  Shakespeare, 
Scott,  Burns,  Byron  and  Morris  (the  only  five  we 
had  handy)  in  relays  to  support  his  fervent  song  of 
love,  for  behind  the  scene  with  my  pen  Jim  said  I 
was  a  wonder  in  stringing  this  fetching  gush  to- 
gether. But  I  tried  to  be  modest  about  it.  There 
was  enough  in  those  five  to  marry  the  inhabitants 
of  Europe  to  those  of  Africa.  I  understood  that 
anything  Jim  said  to  a  woman  would  be  taken  in 
good  part,  and  those  love  letters  in  which  the 
green  fields  of  his  soul  must  have  appeared  well 
irrigated  by  those  bubbling  springs  of  joy,  un- 
doubtedly pleased  the  fair  dames  and,  I  supposed, 
did  no  harm.  But  a  joke  is  the  most  dangerous 
thing  a  middleman  in  the  love  business  can  en- 
gage in.  The  business  is  full  of  danger  anyhow, 
but  joking  is  worse  than  dynamite. 

If  the  mechanical  part  of  our  arrangements  had 
been  seen  by  the  young  women — Jim  generally 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN         99 

asleep  and  I  copying  the  poetry  from  a  clumsy, 
big  book  and  scratching  my  tousled  head  for  sen- 
timent enough  to  glue  the  verses  together  in  a 
prose  somewhere  near  the  same  temperature — I 
don't  suppose  there  would  have  been  many  vic- 
tories. Perhaps  there  were  none ;  Jim  never  spoke 
of  results;  he  kept  them  to  himself  and  I  don't 
know  what  he  did  with  them.  All  the  margin 
there  was  in  it  for  me  was  the  literary  exercise 
which  in  value  hardly  covered  the  cost  of  the  ink. 
Perhaps  he  had  married  each  one  of  the  women 
and  had  killed  them  off,  because  he  enjoyed  the 
excitement  of  courtship's  gamble  more  than  the 
sure  thing  of  matrimony.  If  so,  I  was  undoubt- 
edly an  accomplice,  although  entirely  innocent. 
A  jury,  however,  might  not  take  that  com- 
fortable view  of  it,  if  a  handwriting  expert 
were  called  and  took  seven  weeks  to  tell  them 
his  story.  They  would  certainly  hang  me  to 
get  home. 

So  first  my  grief  and  loneliness  recalled  the 
lines  of  the  poet  whose  music  I  had  used  to  Jim's 
advantage,  and  then  followed  the  matters  attached 
to  the  same  chain  of  thought.  The  moment  was 
ripe  for  one  of  those  coincidences  that  occasionally 
arise  to  startle  us.  It  came  sure  enough,  and 
gave  me  the  worst  shock  of  all,  for  when  I  after- 


100      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

ward  considered  its  full  meaning,  I  realized  that 
I  had  for  ten  years  been  the  innocent  tool  of  the 
criminal  whom  Tescheron  had  discovered  after  an 
investigation  of  six  hours.  Had  the  truth  been 
revealed  to  the  world,  thought  I,  with  evidence 
of  Hosley's  guilt,  my  bust  would  be  lined  up  on 
the  same  shelf  with  his  in  the  Hall  of  Infamy. 

"Must  I  to  the  lees 

Drain  thy  bitter  chalice,  Pain? 
Silent  grief  all  grief  excels; 

Life  and  it  together  part — 
Like  a  restless  worm  it  dwells 

Deep  within  the  human  heart." 

More  of  Morris  came  to  mind.  I  was  sitting 
alone  in  the  sun  parlor  at  the  hospital  that  morrir 
ing,  gathering  strength  in  the  abundant  sunshine 
that  poured  through  the  glass  windows  on  all 
sides,  reaching  from  roof  to  floor.  Wrapped  in 
a  single  blanket,  in  my  cushioned  wheel  chair,  I 
was  as  comfortable  as  a  man  with  a  half  dozen 
or  so  newly  knit  bones  could  feel  if  he  sat  per- 
fectly still  and  did  not  exhaust  his  energies  by 
worrying  over  the  slow  ups  and  the  rapid  downs 
of  life,  as  one  who  had  dropped  five  stories  into 
the  depths  of  solitude  might,  if  not  careful  to  turn 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       101 

to  the  saving  grace  of  his  philosophy  and  political 
economy.  Learning  is  the  only  thing  a  man  can 
count  on  in  the  bottomless  pit,  and  then  it  won't 
help  him  unless  he  has  a  little  humor  for  a  light. 
Alas !  my  light  had  gone  out. 

Well,  I  was  sitting  there  sunning  myself  and 
thinking  how  deep  a  hole  I  had  fallen  into,  when 
Hygeia  appeared,  as  ever  a  vision  of  loveliness, 
a  picture  of  a  merry  heart  gathering  the  sweets 
of  life  and  scattering  the  seeds  of  contentment  by 
passing  busily  from  one  task  to  another,  full  of 
the  joy  of  sound  health  and  thankful  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  service.  How  did  she  find  time  to  pur- 
sue a  course  in  medicine?  Her  ambition  amazed 
me. 

"A  gentleman  wishes  to  see  you,  sir,"  she  said, 
and  she  handed  his  card  to  me.  It  read : 


A.  OBREEON, 
30  West  24th  Street, 

New  York. 
Private  Detective  Service. 


I  felt  that  light  was  about  to  break  on  a  dark 
subject,  and  I  was  not  mistaken.     A.  Obreeon 


102      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

was  as  much  Dutch  in  appearance  as  French  in 
name;  he  had  a  rosy,  round  face  and  cheeks  that 
were  like  a  picture  of  two  red  apples.  He  seemed 
husky  enough  to  be  a  corner  groceryman,  who 
benefits  incidentally  through  the  fresh  air  advan- 
tages bestowed  on  his  vegetables  to  keep  them 
marketable.  His  beard  was  trimmed  to  look  like 
a  farmer's,  with  a  clean-shaven  upper  lip — a  form 
of  barbering  that  prevents  bronchitis,  but  not 
soup.  No  one  would  suspect  him  of  anything 
except  tight  boots,  for  his  mouth  and  forehead 
were  wrinkled  as  if  he  were  suffering  from  acute 
cornitis ;  you  might  call  it  "an  injured  air,"  for  a 
man  who  has  just  run  a  sliver  in  his  toe  shows 
the  same  symptoms. 

Mr.  Obreeon  seemed  interested  to  the  point  of 
being  worried  when  I  asked  him  to  have  a  seat, 
and  at  this  and  every  suggestion  he  was  taken 
with  violent  shooting  pains,  and  his  lips  were 
pursed  for  a  drawn  whistle  of  discomfort.  A 
smooth  man  was  never  so  ill  at  ease.  Any  pro- 
moter who  will  abandon  his  air  of  supreme  con- 
fidence and  adopt  the  Obreeon  principle  of  disin- 
terestedness in  all  worldly  affairs  except  his 
agony,  will  pull  millions  from  the  pockets  that 
now  begrudgingly  yield  ten  thousand  dollar  allot- 
ments in  return  for  smooth  talk  concerning 


103 

gigantic  ventures,  as  viewed  from  the  sub-cellar 
of  enterprise. 

Obreeon  apologized  for  coming;  said  he  ought 
really  to  be  home,  he  felt  so  badly;  had  been 
so  wretched,  etc. ;  but  he  had  waited  so  long,  if 
he  was  going  to  do  anything  with  me,  it  must 
be  done  now.  Then  he  would  draw  a  few  whis- 
tles, pinch  up  his  face  and  screw  his  mouth 
around  in  a  way  that  convinced  me  he  had  no 
axe  to  grind.  No  one  but  a  philanthropist  would 
go  out  to  see  a  man  when  in  such  pain. 

"There  is  a  matter  which  I  wanted  to  see  you 
about  before  going  to  my  friend  Smith,"  said 
Mr.  Obreeon.  "Of  course,  I  know  he  is  working 
on  this  case — we  tip  each  other  off  sometimes, 
you  know,  and  would  like  to  have  this  bit  of  evi- 
dence." He  pointed  to  a-  small  leather  bag.  I 
eyed  it,  but  failed  to  identify  it  as  a  Hosley  ex- 
hibit. "Some  of  my  men  gathered  this  evidence 
at  the  fire,"  he  continued.  "Of  course,  what  I 
have  found  out  won't  be  of  any  use  to  them  unless 
they  have  plenty  of  Hosley's  handwriting  for  ex- 
pert examination — " 

Hosley's  handwriting !  My  swallowing  was  on 
walnuts.  I  could  see  that  they  were  close  on 
Jim's  trail,  but  I  dared  not  reveal  where  I  stood 
in  the  matter  or  that  Tescheron  had  not  been  near 


104.       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

me.  If  there  was  any  handwriting  it  must  be 
mine,  moreover,  for  Jim  never  wrote;  he  sent 
telegrams  in  great  emergencies.  I  pulled  myself 
together,  offering  to  get  Mr.  Obreeon  a  drink  or 
a  drug  that  would  ease  his  intense  pain,  so  that 
he  might  be  persuaded  to  remain  and  divulge  all 
he  knew.  This  man  was  at  work  independently 
of  Smith,  and  might  help  me.  No,  he  would  not 
take  anything,  thank  you,  as  it  might  cause  him 
to  collapse !  Gracious,  but  I  was  afraid  he  might 
collapse.  He  assured  me  he  shared  my  fears,  and 
made  me  promise  he  would  be  taken  at  once  in  the 
ambulance  to  the  address  on  the  card,  should  the 
worst  happen.  My  assurances  calmed  him  and 
he  proceeded,  but  with  great  effort : 

"Yes,  I  have  here  one  hundred  and  sixty-two 
letters  written  by  Hosley.  I — " 

At  that  moment  the  collapse  was  on  me.  I  fell 
back  in  my  recovery  a  clean  two  weeks,  because 
of  the  nerve  force  squandered  in  trying  to  take 
that  in. 

"I  think  they  prove  he  was  connected  with  the 
woman  downstairs,  for  after  the  fire  my  men 
found  them  in  one  of  her  private  boxes,  tied  up 
with  a  lot  of  her  letters.  But  I  have  here  only 
those  written  by  him." 

"Perhaps  another    man  named    Hosley  wrote 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN       105 

them,"  I  ventured,  after  recovering,  "if  you  found 
them  so ;  Hosley  is  not  such  an  unusual  name." 

"Well,  now,  that's  just  what  I  want  to  get  at, 
Mr.  Hopkins.  Maybe  you're  right,  and  so,  of 
course,  I  wouldn't  want  to  bother  Smith  with  'em, 
you  know,  if  they  are  only  a  false  clue ;  he'd  only 
laugh  at  me,  you  see.  As  you,  I  understand,  are 
friendly  with  Tescheron  and  against  this  Hosley 
as  much  as  he  is,  I  thought  I'd  consult  you  first 
and  find  out  if  these  letters  were  really  written  by 
your  Hosley  or  another.  If  they  are  his,  I  think 
I  have  the  evidence  you  all  will  want." 

Letters  written  by  Hosley,  and  found  with  that 
woman's  things!  Then  I  had  written  them  and 
they  might  prove  to  the  world  that  I  was  his  ac- 
complice in  crime,  for  if  he  had  won  her  heart 
with  these  letters  and  had  done  away  with  her,  as 
alleged,  and  Smith  had  the  evidence  to  prove  it, 
then  I  was  his  pal.  My  protestations  of  inno- 
cence would  not  avail.  There  were  the  letters 
and  Smith  had  the  specimens  of  my  handwriting 
in  the  many  messages  sent  to  Tescheron  at  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Hotel.  But  how  lucky  for  me  that 
the  sleuths  of  Obreeon  and  not  those  of  Smith  had 
found  them!  How  I  clutched  at  that  thought! 
Surely  all  luck  had  not  left  me.  How  fortunate 
that  Obreeon  did  not  suspect  me  as  an  accomplice, 


106      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

for  with  those  letters  he  might  have  convicted  us 
both! 

How  eagerly  I  reached  for  them  as  Obreeon 
took  them  from  the  bag  while  undergoing  a  wave 
of  pain  that  I  felt  sure  took  his  attention  from 
me!  They  had  been  written  for  Jim  several 
years  before  in  one  of  his  most  severe  cases.  That 
villain,  Hosley,  had  certainly  fooled  me.  I  could 
see  that  I  had  been  his  dupe  all  through.  I,  his 
chum  from  boyhood,  blinded  at  every  turn  by  this 
clever  knave!  But  at  last  I  was  getting  wise  to 
the  trickery  of  the  world;  from  this  time  forth 
I  would  be  wary  of  every  suggestion  and  live  and 
die  alone  to  insure  the  preservation  of  my  inno- 
cence. What  a  harvest  of  whirlwind  these  letters 
would  have  brought  me  had  they  passed  into  the 
hands  of  Smith  or  the  authorities !  Here's  where 
the  profits  come  in,  thought  I,  when  a  fellow  sets 
up  to  do  a  jobbing  business  in  love,  as  I  read  on 
and  on  through  the  first  pile,  pretending  to  have 
some  difficulty  in  recognizing  Hosley's  handwrit- 
ing. A  few  off  the  top  of  pile  No.  i  ran  as 
follows : 

April  4, 

My  Dear  Miss  Brown: 

You  have  not  forgotten  the  honor  granted  to 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       107 

me  at  Mrs.  Pratt's.     May  I  call  to-morrow  even- 
ing ?     I  shall  be  eager  to  hear  from  you. 
Sincerely, 

JAMES  HOSLEY. 

April  10,  

My  Dear  Miss  Brown : 

You  and  I  in  H,  middle  aisle  at  Daly's,  to-mor- 
row night.  Jolliest  show  in  town  under  these  rare 
circumstances.  If  I  come  early,  you  must  pardon 
me,  for  I  shall  be  so  eager  to  meet  you  again. 

The  star,  the  breeze,  the  wave,  the  trees, 

Their  minstrelsy  unite, 
But  all  are  drear,  till  thou  appear 

To  decorate  the  night. 

Sincerely  yours, 

JAMES  HOSLEY. 

Great  Morris !  It  must  have  made  him  squirm 
in  his  grave. 

April  12, 

Dear  Miss  Brown: 

Thank  you  for  the  kind  invitation  for  to-mor- 
row evening.  Sincerely, 

JAMES  HOSLEY. 


108      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

April  14, 

Dear  Miss  Brown : 

What  a  delightful  time  we  all  had  at  Mrs. 
Pratt's  last  night !  I  shall  call  to  talk  it  over  with 
you  to-night  Sincerely, 

JAMES  HOSLEY. 

April  15, 

Dear  Miss  Brown : 

What  a  pretty  name  Margaret  is!      I  had  no 
idea  all  your  friends  called  you  that. 
O  lingering  rose  of  May ! 

Dear  as  when  first  I  met  her; 
Worn  is  my  heart  alway, 
Life-cherished  Margaretta. 

And  when  we  parted  last  night,  believe  me, 

As  morn  was  faintly  breaking, 
For  many  a  weary  mile, 

Oh,  how  my  heart  was  aching! 

Sincerely, 

JAMES  H. 

April  17, 

Dear  Margaretta : 

How  long  are  you  to  be  gone?  Write  me  daily 
when  away,  that  the  period  of  your  absence  from 


109 

town  may  be  as  brief  as  you  can  make  it,  to  lessen 
the  anguish  of  the  one  who  "at  the  trysting  place, 
with  tears  regrets  thee." 

I  shall  be  with  you  early  this  evening, 
Yours  as  always, 

JIM. 

April  23, 

Dear  Margaretta : 

The  time  drags  heavily,  and  were  it  not  for 
the  cheerful  letter  that  arrives  every  morning,  so 
full  of  your  enthusiasm  for  the  unfolding  beau- 
ties of  the  spring  and  your  tender  assurances 
occasionally  given  in  return  to  the  pleadings  that 
pour  from  my  overflowing  heart,  it  would  seem 
that  I  could  not  bear  the  struggle  against  life's 
disappointments.  Time?  What  has  time  to  do 
with  love? 

Love  cannot  be  the  aloe  tree, 

Whose  bloom  but  once  is  seen ; 
Go  search  the  grove — the  tree  of  love 

Is  sure  the  evergreen; 
For  that's  the  same,  in  leaf  or  frame, 

'Neath  cold  or  sunny  skies; 
You  take  the  ground  its  roots  have  bound 

Or  it,  transplanted,  dies ! 


110      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

My  dear  sweetheart,  my  love  for  you  is  the 
evergreen,  and  write  me,  darling,  not  of  the  bud- 
ding trees  and  the  wild  flowers  so  tender  in  the 
morning  dew,  for  there  is  an  aggravating  indi- 
rection to  such  devotion.  Write  me,  my  dearest,  so 
that  I  may  feel 

Those  tender  eyes  still  rest  upon  me,  love ! 

I  feel  their  magic  spell, 

With  that  same  look  you  won  me,  love. 

Oh!  these  spring  days  and  thoughts  of  you 
combine  to  swell  my  song  to  bursting.  When, 
Margaretta,  do  you  return?  for  I  would  behold 
again 

Thy  form  of  matchless  symmetry, 

In  sweet  perfection  cast — 
*  *  * 

I  miss  thee  everywhere,  beloved, 

I  miss  thee  everywhere ; 
Both  night  and  day  wear  dull  away, 

And  leave  me  in  despair. 
The  banquet  hall,  the  play,  the  ball, 

And  childhood's  sportive  glee, 
Have  lost  their  spell  for  me,  beloved, 

My  soul  is  full  of  thee. 

Your  story  of  the  springtime  is  very  sweet. 
The  descriptions  are  true  to  life,  and  as  I  read  on 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      111 

and  on,  I  behold  the  exquisite  beauties  of  your 
character,  for  as  you  so  lovingly  and  simply  tell 
of  the  birds,  the  flowers,  the  brook  and  the  mist 
enshrouding  the  lowing  kine,  you  artlessly  sound 
the  great  depths  of  your  own  soul. 

How  I  envy  the  winged  denizens  of  the  coun- 
try !  even  those  black  beetles  you  so  playfully  refer 
to  on  page  18,  line  56.  I  wish  /  might  come  in 
somewhere : — 

Has  Margaret  forgotten  me, 

And  love  I  now  in  vain? 
If  that  be  so,  my  heart  can  know 

No  rest  on  earth  again. 
A  sad  and  weary  lot  is  mine, 

To  love  and  be  forgot; 
A  sad  and  weary  lot,  beloved; 

A  sad  and  weary  lot ! 

And,  of  course,  it  pleases  me  to  know  they  are 
making  much  of  you  up  there  in  the  country.  I 
can  see  the  swains  for  miles  around  polishing 
their  manners  and  taking  astonishing  pains  with 
their  Sunday's  best,  to  make  a  good  impression. 
They,  too,  are  baring  their  hearts  to  your  melting 
glances,  completely  enchanted  under  the  spell  of 
your  womanly  graces.  But  believe  me,  my  dar- 
ling Margaret, 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

When  other  friends  are  round  thee, 

And  other  hearts  are  thine; 
When  other  bays  have  crowned  thee, 

More  fresh  and  green  than  mine — 
Then  think  how  sad  and  lonely 

This  doting  heart  will  be, 
Which,  while  it  throbs,  throbs  only, 

Beloved  one,  for  thee! 

And  oh,  how  I  fear,  not  the  spring  songs  of 
the  birds  so  mellow  with  love's  endearing  persua- 
sion, the  whisperings  of  the  soft  winds,  nor  the 
caprice  of  the  beetles,  but  the  gentle  pastorals  of 
those  sturdy  rural  bards.  List  not  to  their  ten- 
der minstrelsy,  my  darling !  List  not  to  the  coun- 
try poet's  song,  but  hie  thee  home  to  thy  await- 
ing Jamie.  List  not,  for — 

How  sweet  the  cadence  of  his  lyre! 

What  melody  of  words! 
They  strike  a  pulse  within  the  heart, 

Like  songs  of  forest  birds, 
Or  tinkling  of  the  shepherd's  bell 

Among  the  mountain  herds. 

Can't  you  hurry  home,  Margaret?  The  town 
has  not  lost  all  its  fascination  for  you,  I  hope. 
Are  there  no  other  joys  in  life  but  the  top  notes 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       113 

of  the  birdies  and  the  murmurings  of  the  awak- 
ening forest? 

Come,  come  to  me,  love! 

Come,  love!     Arise! 
And  shame  the  bright  stars 

With  the  light  of  thine  eyes ; 
Look  out  from  thy  lattice — 

Oh.  lady-bird,  hear ! 

Write  me,  my  darling,  the  good  news  of  your 
home-coming,  that  I  may  greet  you  at  the  Grand 
Central.  Oh,  promise  me  that  you  will  hasten 
home,  and  name  the  minute  the  train  is  due,  that 
I  may  be  there  an  hour  early. 

Tis  then  the  promised  hour 
When  torches  kindle  in  the  skies 
To  light  thee  to  thy  bower. 

Your  only,  devoted,  well-nigh  distracted,  but 
fondly  true  JAMIE. 

Whew !  Shade  of  Morris,  forgive  me  for  the 
base  uses  to  which  I  turned  your  love  songs ! 

When  I  had  finished  going  over  the  letters  I 
proceeded  to  be  extremely  wise  and  diplomatic. 


114      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"These  letters  seem  to  bear  Hosley's  name," 
said  I ;  "they  might  help  us — in  fact,  I  am  glad  you 
took  the  pains  to  bring  them  to  me.     Are  there 
any  more?"     He  might  not  have  noticed  how 
anxious  I  was  to  have  them  all. 

"Yes,  you  have  the  complete  and  most  dam- 
aging documents  in  the  case,"  he  answered.  "They 
only  need  your  identification,  or  if  there  should 
be  any  handwriting  for  comparison,  you  can  un- 
derstand— yes,  just  so — why,  it  would  be  easy 
without  your  evidence.  I  see  you  appreciate  their 
enormous  value." 

This  fellow  was  getting  around  to  talk  cash 
in  a  way  that  made  me  squirm,  and  as  he  eased 
off  again  his  pain  kept  him  engaged  and  gave  me 
a  chance  to  think.  When  I  wrote  those  letters  I 
thought  they  were  pretty  nice,  but  I  never  put 
any  cash  value  on  them,  and  never  supposed  there 
would  be  any  market  for  them. 

"Mr.  Obreeon,"  said  I,  "about  what  would  com- 
pensate you  for  your  trouble  in  gathering  up  those 
letters?"  I  was  calm. 

"One  thousand  dollars."  And  as  he  said  it  his 
pain  left  him  and  shot  into  me. 

I  rocked  and  gripped  the  chair.  I  could  see 
there  was  no  use  to  get  mad  and  talk  loud,  for  he 
had  me  where  there  was  only  one  move  I  could 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       115 

make  without  getting  in  check,  and  that  was  into 
my  pocketbook.  Besides,  if  I  talked  too  much 
he  might  find  where  I  came  in  on  the  thing. 

"Five  hundred,  cash  down,  I'll  give  you,"  said 
I,  trying  to  look  disinterested,  as  if  I  dealt  in  auto- 
graphs and  letters  of  great  men. 

"One  thousand  dollars,  hair  and  all,"  said  he, 
nibbing  his  palms  in  a  net-price  manner. 

"Hair?" 

"Yes ;  there's  a  lock  of  Hosley's  hair  and  some 
rings — everything  is  included  in  my  price." 

What  was  it  worth  to  keep  out  of  the  electric 
chair  ?  That  is  the  way  I  figured  it ;  it  wasn't  so 
much  a  question  of  letters  and  mere  poetry  and 
hair. 

"That's  an  awful  price,"  said  I,  "an  awful 
price" 

"Well,  let  me  take  them  around  to  Tescheron. 
My  price  to  him  will  be  three  thousand  dollars, 
and  I  know  from  the  prices  Smith  is  getting  that 
he'll  pay.  Glad  to  see  you  improving.  Any- 
thing in  my  line,  Mr.  Hopkins,  would  be  pleased 
to  hear  from  you ;  old  established  house — " 

"Sit  down !  Sit  down,  Obrecon !  I'll  split  the 
difference  with  you  and  let  you  have  my  check."  I 
touched  a  button  and  requested  that  my  new  hand- 
bag containing  my  checkbook  and  fountain  pen  be 


116      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

brought.  Thank  goodness,  my  bank  account  had 
not  burned  and  my  reputation  might  yet  be  saved. 

"No,  Mr.  Hopkins,  I  am  favoring  you,  really 
I  am,  in  this  matter,  you  know,  and  I  could  not 
— I  could  not  cut  that  price." 

What  was  the  use?  It  almost  cleaned  me  out, 
but  I  never  hankered  after  money  if  it  meant  pub- 
licity. You  may  say  it  was  only  a  fad  or  fancy 
of  mine.  I  drew  my  check  for  $1,000  of  hard- 
earned  cash,  slowly  gathered  by  years  of  saving 
out  of  a  small  salary,  and  gave  it  to  him,  making 
sure  I  had  the  goods  and  extra  fittings. 

Mr.  Obreeon  started  for  home  with  warm  feet 
and  a  remarkably  steady  gait. 

Well,  I  never  thought  any  letters  of  mine  would 
bring  that  sum  in  the  open  market,  and  as  for 
Jim's  hair,  I  had  known  him  to  pay  a  quarter  to 
have  a  lot  of  it  cut  off  and  thrown  away. 

I  did  a  little  figuring  with  my  pen  after 
Obreeon  left.  Taking  the  hairs  and  letters  com- 
bined, they  cost  me  an  average  price  of  $5.55.  I 
worked  it  out  this  way: 

162 — of  my  letters. 
1 8 — of  Jim's  hairs. 

1 80 — total  hairs  and  letters. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      117 

You  then  divide  $1,000  by  180  to  ascertain  the 
average  price  of  $5.55. 

Or,  if  you  want  to  get  at  the  price  of  each  hair, 
counting  the  letters  as  dead  stock,  you  grasp  at  a 
glance  that  the  hairs  are  just  10  per  cent,  of  the 
outfit,  so  you  divide  180  by  10,  and  that  gives 
you  18;  take  this  amount  and  you  run  it  into 
$  1,000,  and  you  get  the  price  per  hair  as  $55.55. 
When  you  arrive  at  this  answer  you  may  note 
that  you  might  have  obtained  it  by  multiplying 
the  average  price  by  ten.  In  other  words,  the 
hair,  if  entirely  loose  from  the  poetry,  costs  ten 
times  as  much.  To  get  at  the  price  of  the  poetry 
loose  from  the  hair,  you  simply  divide  $1,000  by 
162,  the  number  of  letters,  and  that  gives  you 
$6.17  as  the  price  of  each  letter,  wholly  disregard- 
ing the  hair.  It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  that  the 
commodity  of  highest  value  in  an  ordinary  love 
correspondence,  such  as  this  was,  is  the  hair,  so 
that  it  is  important  for  purchasers  to  consider  if 
it  is  worth  the  price  should  the  poetry  go  out  of 
style. 

I  have  often  thought  I  might  have  bought  four 
or  five  Persian  lamb  coats  for — well,  never  mind. 
There  is  no  cold-storage  expense  keeping  this  fur 
of  Jim's.  Every  deal  shows  its  profit  one  way 
or  the  other,  and  sooner  or  later  you'll  find  it. 


118      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

There  is  a  heavy  expense  attached  to  making1  over 
Persian  lamb  coats,  besides.  What  I  have  of 
Jim's  coat  I  wouldn't  alter  for  the  world,  because 
whenever  I  have  a  craving  for  poetry  with  hair,  I 
turn  to  that  and  get  all  I  want  for  some  time  to 
come,  just  at  a  glance. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

NOW  that  I  know  Gabrielle  Tescheron,  I 
am  for  giving  woman  the  largest  liberty 
in  all  matters ;  let  her  have  suffrage  if  she 
will  take  it  I  am  for  giving  woman  everything 
— just  let  her  run  loose,  here,  there  and  every- 
where, and  then  you'll  see  the  world  tidy  up.  It's 
time  the  worldliness  of  the  world  was  viewed  with 
fresh  eyes.  Woman,  so  long  held  in  restraint,  in 
many  ways  is  a  better  observer  than  conventional 
man.  She  is  like  a  countryman  newly  arrived  in 
the  city.  It  takes  a  countryman  to  see  the  real 
sights  of  New  York;  of  course,  he  won't  let  on 
or  be  surprised  at  anything,  for  he  wants  you  to 
feel  that  the  only  metropolis  worth  while  is  the 
place  he  calls  "down  street,"  up  home ;  he  is  tak- 
ing it  all  in,  however,  like  an  old-fashioned  sap- 
kettle,  and  if  you  have  dumped  maple  juice  fresh 
from  the  trees  into  one  all  day,  you'd  think  it 
held  the  five  oceans  and  the  Great  Lakes.  For 
years  afterward  his  views  on  New  York  illumi- 

119 


120       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

nate  locally  every  city  scandal  reported  in  the 
New  York  papers;  he  probably  saw  it  coming 
when  he  was  down,  and  can  tell  a  lot  of  incidents 
there  was  no  space  for  in  the  crowded  papers. 

At  one  of  the  Oswegatchie  County  dinners  held 
in  a  swell  New  York  hotel  I  once  saw  one  of  these 
confident,  you-can't-surprise-me  countrymen  take 
a  drink  of  water  from  a  goblet  with  a  scalloped 
edge ;  it  stood  fourteen  inches  high  and  six  across. 
The  waiter  had  placed  it  on  the  table  near  him 
full  of  celery,  but  when  the  last  piece  had  been 
taken  and  only  a  few  green  leaves  floated  like  lily 
pads  on  its  calm  surface,  he  knew  the  proper  thing 
to  do.  He  just  blew  off  the  stray  leaves,  stretched 
his  mouth  around  the  prongs  on  the  edge,  got  his 
paw  under  it,  turned  it  up  and  enjoyed  his  simple 
highball.  All  our  strong  men  come  from  the 
country.  They  drink  and  see  things  straight. 
They  are  more  particular  as  to  contents  than  con- 
tainers, for  they  are  nearly  all  prohibitionists  or 
very  high  license  advocates.  When  they  are 
"dry,"  they  drink  equally  well  from  a  spring-hole, 
a  spigot,  a  dipper  or  a  pail. 

"Rather  generous  with  the  water  at  these  din- 
ners, Reuben,"  I  said,  addressing  him  across  the 

table,  as  he  covered  his  mouth  with  his  napkin 

,». 

preparatory  to  resuming  his  composure. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       121 

"These  fashionable  glasses  always  cut  my 
mouth,"  he  replied,  wrinkling-  his  brow  to  em- 
phasize his  dislike  for  the  fads  of  the  aristocracy. 

But  when  an  out-and-out  city  man  goes  to  the 
country,  he  can't  see  anything;  it's  all  just  like 
Central  Park,  in  that  there  are  no  houses  to  be 
seen,  only  it's  not  laid  out  so  well  nor  raked  so 
clean.  I  have  often  seen  these  chaps  when  they 
came  up  to  our  place.  The  city  man  is  as  blind 
as  a  cave  fish,  and  all  he  wants  to  know  is  when 
do  they  eat  and  are  there  any  mosquitoes  and  poi- 
son ivy.  The  air  suits  him,  only  it's  a  little  too 
strong;  and  the  dirt  is  satisfactory — all  else  is 
away  below  par,  and  if  it  weren't  for  the  air  and 
the  dirt,  which  the  country-bred  city  doctor  has 
told  him  the  kids  need,  he'd  like  to  be  home,  where 
he  can  be  sociable  in  his  sub-stratum  of  atmo- 
spheric poison,  amid  the  clatter  that  consumes  his 
vital  forces  and  keeps  him  pleasantly  anaemic  and 
tolerably  dead. 

Did  you  ever  go  through  the  woods  with  a 
native  New  Yorker?  There  has  been  an  inces- 
sant stream  of  startling  things  running  before  his 
eyes  since  his  birth,  with  plenty  of  noise,  dust  and 
expense,  so  that  when  he  is  thrown  out  into  the 
fields  or  the  woods  he  finds  he  can't  be  one  of 
Nature's  Quakers  and  hold  communion  with  the 


188       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

silent  worshippers  through  whom  the  Spirit 
speaks.  His  outdoor  religion  is  in  the  Salvation 
Army  class,  and  he  can't  warm  up  enough  to  ad- 
mire a  potted  geranium  unless  he  hears  a  bass 
drum  or  a  hand  organ  to  distract  him  on  the  side. 
If  the  sweet  air  and  comforting  silence  of  the 
country  were  to  fall  upon  New  York,  the  town 
would  probably  drop  to  even  lower  levels  from 
the  shock.  The  country  boy,  who  has  been  used 
to  concentrating,  on  the  wood-pile,  runs  the  coun- 
try ;  or,  if  it  happens  to  be  a  city  boy  who  runs  it, 
he  is  a  fellow  who  had  the  wood-pile  grafted  onto 
him  in  time  to  save  his  career.  Gabrielle  Tesch- 
cron,  the  woman  in  a  new  field,  saw  the  world 
aright ;  there  was  no  mystery  for  her  at  any  time. 
Her  intuitions  guided  her  unerringly  while  we 
who  reasoned  became  entangled. 

Shrewdness  in  the  country  lad,  however,  is  not 
commended  very  highly  by  me.  It  may  be  that 
the  country  boy  has  been  tutored  by  the  most  un- 
scrupulous politicians  that  ever  got  out  a  big  vote 
on  a  moral  issue — usually  the  one  coined  at  the 
mint  with  unanimous  consent  and  a  cry  for  more : 
"In  God  We  Trust."  If  the  country  boy  has 
fallen,  it  may  be  that  he  was  blinded  by  this,  so 
that  when  he  came  to  the  city  and  took  the  prizes 
he  used  the  same  old  methods.  We  find  some  of 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       123 

these  shrewd  country  lads  with  abundant  health, 
close  observers,  selling  their  birthrights  here  in 
the  sort  of  deals  that  were  regarded  as  clever  in 
up-country  politics,  and  so  became  legitimate  in 
their  eyes. 

There's  more  politics  in  the  country  than  they 
can  dilute  in  their  sermons,  although  they  absorb 
about  thirty  times  as  many  of  these  as  the  city 
man.  Some  day  all  the  country  fathers  will  re- 
form, even  if  they  have  to  change  their  politics 
and  half  of  them  die  because  of  it.  They  will 
think  it  more  worth  while  to  save  their  sons  than 
to  save  the  country. 

What  about  the  morality  of  the  city  man  ?  It 
isn't  a  factor  because  he  isn't 

If  the  management  of  our  affairs  had  been  en- 
trusted to  Gabrielle  Tescheron  there  would  have 
been  no  trouble.  Had  her  father  been  a  wise  man 
and  allowed  this  only  child  to  have  her  way — to 
have  noted  the  whole  situation  from  her  fresh 
view-point,  he  would  have  found  peace  where  he 
found  an  abundance  of  perplexing  conditions  and 
ample  expense  closely  adhering  to  every  bramble 
bush  into  which  the  tactics  of  Smith  hurled  him. 
Gabrielle  could  not  save  him  and  she  did  not  try. 
Where  the  cause  of  the  trouble  is  idiocy  of  the 
Tescheron  quality,  it  has  to  go  through  a  long 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

course  of  pulverization,  maceration  and  cure;  if 
you  hurry  the  process,  the  goods  will  be  sour  and 
hurt  the  business,  if  the  lot  gets  out  under  the 
trade-mark.  The  best  thing  to  do  with  it  is  to 
send  it  to  the  coal  heap,  for  if  you  try  to  get  your 
money  back  at  a  Front  Street  auction  room,  some 
hand-cart  syndicate  will  nab  it  and  cut  your  price. 
They'll  undersell  the  direct  trade,  and  when  you 
have  finished  writing  an  explanation  to  the  men 
on  the  road,  you'd  wish  you  had  eaten  the  whole 
carload  yourself. 

It  was  part  of  the  wisdom  of  this  remarkably 
prudent  young  woman  to  thoroughly  comprehend 
— by  some  of  those  fresh  intuitions,  probably — 
that  her  truly  repentant  father  would  plead  for  her 
forgiveness  and  ask  her  blessing  upon  his  prodigal 
return  only  after  a  long,  long  wrestle  with  the 
wholesalers  in  blasted  reputations,  who  so  show- 
ily presented  designs  for  a  disgraced  suitor  that 
pleased  him  greatly.  He  had  placed  an  order 
with  these  architects  of  infamous  character  to 
build  one  according  to  the  plans  and  specifica- 
tions presented,  and  as  the  construction  work 
progressed  there  were  extras,  extras,  extras! 
Gabrielle  knew  of  these  and  never  murmured. 
To  her  father's  urgings,  she  guardedly  re- 
plied: 


"My  dear  father,  I  know  my  heart  and  I  know 
yours.  Some  day  you,  too,  will  reach  the  truth 
and  we  shall  again  be  happy." 

There  was  no  mystery  in  this  situation  for 
Gabrielle  Tescheron,  as  I  have  stated.  She  would 
not  tolerate  it.  At  the  time  her  father  and  myself 
were  confused,  she  was  sure  of  herself.  He 
thought  of  his  family,  and  I  of  my  reputation, 
whose  spots  had  never  been  advertised.  Gabrielle 
thought  only  of  Jim. 

Gabrielle  could  not  be  swayed  from  her  devo- 
tion to  the  man  whose  simple  ways  and  sturdy 
honor  made  their  silent  appeal  to  her.  He  was 
nobody's  ideal  man  but  hers,  perhaps,  and  people 
who  knew  them  wondered  what  she  saw  in  him 
to  match  her  ambitions.  Well,  there  was  her  wis- 
dom coming  to  the  surface  again  in  a  way  to  con- 
fuse those  who  would  have  managed  her  affairs 
differently.  Gabrielle  had  a  firm  faith  in  herself. 
Jim  was  the  complementary  type  of  man ;  he  ap- 
proached her  with  qualifications  that  met  all  the 
practical  conditions  the  careful  father  had  a  right 
to  demand,  prompted  by  his  love  for  his  child — at 
least,  this  was  true  according  to  her  conception — 
and  beyond  that  the  father*  could  not  enter  to  live 
her  life  for  her.  She  was  at  once  convinced  of 
her  father's  folly  and  paid  no  further  heed  to  his 


126      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

objections.  She  gave  full  liberty  to  others,  and 
firmly  but  not  excitedly  demanded  it  for  herself. 
This  was  a  manifestation  of  love's  controlling 
power  in  the  stress  of  storm  that  I,  as  a  theorist, 
knew  not,  but  having  gained  the  wisdom  through 
the  course  it  prescribes  in  the  school — I  might  say 
the  Correspondence  School  of  Hard  Knocks,  I 
think  I  am  now  qualified  to  have  my  name  in  the 
catalogue,  if  not  as  a  member  of  the  faculty,  then 
as  janitor — for  no  man  was  ever  more  ready  than 
I  to  eat  humble  pie. 

Gabrielle  Tescheron  was  a  graduate  of  Vassar. 
When  only  twenty  she  had  her  degree  and  an 
ambition  to  progress  farther  in  knowledge  by 
direct  contact  with  the  world  of  business.  The 
opportunity  came  on  her  Commencement  Day, 
when  John  MacDonald,  an  old  friend  of  her 
father,  playfully  suggested  that  she  come  into 
his  law  office  and  be  a  Portia. 

"Your  black  gown,"  he  said,  "makes  me  think 
you  are  a  Justice  of  the  Court  of  Appeals." 

He  smiled,  and  she  became  very  happy  with 
this  thought  to  carry  home.  Even  then  I  believe 
she  had  the  good  sense  not  to  feel  badly  because 
he  had  not  praised  her  essay  on  "Constitutional 
Provisions  Bearing  Upon  Our  Federal  Control  of 
Inter-State  Commerce." 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       127 

"Ten  years  from  now,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think 
about  it,"  was  all  he  had  to  say. 

John  MacDonald  was  getting  well  along  in 
years,  but  was  at  the  height  of  his  active  pro- 
fessional career  when  Gabrielle  induced  him  to 
seriously  confirm  his  suggestion  made  a  few 
months  before.  This  persistence  of  hers  in  the 
matter  pleased  him.  He  liked  her  self-confidence 
and  that  quiet  manner  which  told  him  she  would 
win  by  taking  the  sure  road  of  steady,  earnest  en- 
deavor to  grasp  the  whole  by  taking  each  part, 
day  by  day.  She  began,  he  saw,  with  scientific 
methods  and  abundant  enthusiasm.  The  plan 
was  for  her  to  master  stenography  and  typewrit- 
ing, become  John  MacDonald's  confidante  in  the 
office,  and  at  the  same  time  take  a  law  course  at 
one  of  the  down-town  schools.  The  mechanical 
aids  afforded  by  stenographic  note-taking  and  the 
typewriter's  rapidity  gave  her  the  short  cuts  to 
mastering  the  details  and  routine  of  the  business 
— the  shop-work  of  a  law  office.  Mr.  MacDonald, 
a  kind,  mild-mannered  man,  but  an  exact  and 
careful  lawyer,  who  demanded  the  utmost  thor- 
oughness from  his  subordinates,  had  known  this 
girl  from  childhood  and  took  a  fatherly  interest 
in  her.  She,  in  turn,  admired  him  for  his  jus- 
tice, and  she  felt  that  the  progress  she  was  able 


128       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

to  make  in  her  work  by  keeping  busy  and  taking 
pains,  might  not  have  been  so  marked  under  his 
tutorship  were  he  not  a  man  whose  sympathy 
never  ran  to  coddling  and  spoiling.  He  was  in 
sympathy  with  her,  that  she  knew ;  but  he  never 
went  out  of  his  way  to  tell  her  how  well  she  was 
doing.  He  incorporated  much  of  her  original 
work  in  his  own,  and  let  her  infer  his  opinion  of 
her  from  this.  This  man  was,  I  believe,  the  source 
of  the  girl's  wisdom  in  the  events  which  drove  her 
father  and  me  into  the  most  unusual  forms  of 
insane  conclusion.  We  assumed  that  we  under- 
stood human  nature.  This  girl  assumed  noth- 
ing. She  walked  with  sure  feet  after  she  had 
gone  over  the  case  with  some  of  the  old-fashioned 
common  sense  that  hovered  around  John  Mac- 
Donald's  law  office.  How  fine  it  was  for  her 
to  attach  herself  to  some  of  the  real  problems  of 
the  world  rather  than  bury  her  talents  in  the  shal- 
low social  activities  she  might  have  entered  into 
and  come  to  regard  as  her  limited  sphere,  when 
in  reality  she  had  the  widest  liberty  for  the  mere 
seeking  and  deserving! 

I  was  not  present  at  the  reception  held  at  the 
home  of  mutual  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gibson, 
some  three  years  prior  to  these  events  narrated 
here,  when  Gabrielle  Tescheron  and  James  Hos- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       129 

ley  first  met.  I  was  out  of  town  that  New  Year's 
eve,  and  so  missed  the  jolly  party  at  the  Gibsons', 
although  I  had  been  present  usually  on  these  an- 
niversary occasions  in  bygone  years,  for  the  Gib- 
sons were  kind  friends  of  ours  and  pitied  our 
lonely  lot.  They  lived  in  the  cutest  little  home 
in  all  the  great  city — in  the  most  romantic  spot 
you  could  find  when  the  waning  hours  of  the  old 
year  were  danced  away  by  merry  feet  and  jolly 
hearts  sang  the  New  Year  in.  Mr.  Gibson  was  a 
mechanical  engineer  (not  from  Stevens',  but  from 
Cooper  Union),  and  he  was  the  superintendent 
in  charge  of  the  big  Produce  Exchange  building, 
whose  tall,  red  tower  is  one  of  the  landmarks  of 
New  York.  Their  home  was  a  conveniently  ar- 
ranged and  tastefully  furnished  apartment  high 
up  in  the  tower  just  beneath  the  clock,  where,  per- 
haps, you  have  seen  those  round  windows  that 
look  out  upon  the  world  of  surrounding  harbor 
and  soaring  skyscrapers,  like  tiny  portholes. 
Those  windows  of  the  Gibson  home  are  larger 
than  you  imagine  when  viewing  them  from  the 
street.  What  a  spot  to  meet  a  charming  girl! 
Why,  I  used  to  lose  my  heart  there  every  New 
Year's  night  as  regularly  as  the  big  clock  marked 
the  minutes,  but  it  always  came  back  to  me  with  a 
bounce  six  weeks  later;  the  dense  atmosphere  of 


130      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

romance  hovering  there  made  competition  ex- 
tremely keen.  Who  would  not  fall  in  love  in  that 
clock  tower ! — far  up  among  the  stars,  separated 
from  the  dull  routine  below  by  encircling  fairy 
lights  of  harbor,  misty  outlines  of  buildings  and 
busily  moving  craft — all  seemingly  in  mid-air, 
flashing  the  scenery  of  a  joyland,  while  mellow 
chimes  of  the  neighboring  Trinity  pealed  their 
glad  welcome  to  the  New  Year.  At  that  magic 
moment,  when  you  pressed  far  out  of  the  window 
to  hear  the  bells — she  and  you — suspended  above 
that  vast  expanse  of  earth,  sea  and  air  shrinking 
away,  as  if  you  two  together  were  flying  aloft  with 
arms  entwined,  you  passed  very  close  to  heaven. 
The  shouts  from  the  street  were  heard  but  faintly, 
and  awoke  sighing  echoes  in  your  heart,  like  the 
minor  chord  accenting  the  ecstatic  movement 
which  seemed  to  hold  the  world  in  rhythm.  How 
lustily  you  caroled  the  chorus  to  hide  your  tender 
feelings!  Some  of  those  round  windows  have 
such  dear  memories  clinging  to  them- — aye !  cling- 
ing is  the  word — that  I  dare  not  look  up  at  them 
any  more  from  Broadway. 

My  story  tells  of  Trinity  bells, 

When  chimes  ring  clear 

And  harbor  lights  are  flashing, 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       131 

Beneath  the  starry  bower, 
Where  a  dying  year  brings  not  a  tear 
To  young  hearts  in  the  tower. 

How  sweetly  swells — how  merrily  bells! 

The  song  of  youth, 

To  lift  the  soul  enraptured — 

A  glance  may  tell  the  story, 
Prompted  by  Cupid,  now  shyly  hid — - 

Anon  he'll  claim  the  glory. 

Remember  that  Gabrielle  Tescheron  was  en- 
joying herself  like  all  the  other  girls  that  night — 
that  New  Year's  eve,  a  little  more  than  three 
years  before  the  opening  of  our  tale,  and  Jim  Hos- 
ley  was  deep  in  all  the  fun.  On  the  floor  above 
the  Gibson  apartment,  the  young  folks  danced 
around  the  works  of  the  clock  to  the  music  of  a 
violin  and  harp,  and  from  early  evening  till  late — 
or  early,  as  you  please — they  had  the  best  kind  of 
a  time — the  mothers,  fathers,  sons  and  daughters 
— for  it  was  a  family  party.  All  the  Gibson  rela- 
tives and  their  friends  were  there,  for  it  would 
not  seem  like  New  Year's  to  them  to  celebrate  the 
coming  of  the  year  away  from  that  romantic  nest. 
Don't  ask  me  to  analyze  the  hearts  of  Gabrielle 
and  Jim  to  the  whys  and  wherefores,  for  the 


132      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

potencies  of  love  are  beyond  the  analysis  even  of 
the  purists,  although  they  give  us  many  words 
of  explanation  which  get  around  at  last  to  the  old 
formula :  "They  fell  in  love."  And  it  was  as  if 
they  had  dropped  from  one  of  the  round  windows 
as  they  leaned  far  out  together  to  catch  the  sound 
of  the  chimes,  so  sudden  and  so  deep  was  the  fall. 

Education  and  training  in  modern  business 
methods  had  left  Gabrielle  just  a  simple  girl,  aside 
from  all  her  accomplishments.  Her  laugh  was 
the  loudest  and  her  zeal  for  a  good  time  the 
strongest.  She  entered  into  the  revels  with  zest, 
prompted  Nellie  Gibson  to  exhibitions  of  mim- 
icry, recited,  cleverly  told  anecdotes  evolved  from 
her  own  experiences,  played,  sang,  danced  and 
cheered  for  the  host  and  hostess.  It  was  well 
there  were  no  neighbors  to  complain. 

Jim,  I  have  been  told,  was  completely  fascinated 
early  in  the  evening,  and  his  devotions  became 
marked  by  nine  o'clock ;  by  ten  o'clock  he  was  lost 
to  all  the  rest  of  the  company  in  beholding  her. 
Early  the  following  year  he  was  happy  only  when 
dancing  with  her,  singing  so  that  his  top  notes 
blended  with  hers  at  short  range,  or  helping  her 
to  hear  the  chimes  at  one  of  the  round  windows. 
At  3  o'clock  he  started  for  Ninety-sixth  Street 
with  Gabrielle — her  mother  and  father  were  not 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       133 

present — and  there  is  no  record  of  the  time  he 
reached  our  flat. 

That  was  the  beginning  of  a  courtship  which 
was  carried  on  without  the  assistance  of  the 
middleman  of  former  years,  until  the  unexpected 
interference  of  the  father-in-law  threw  the  case 
into  my  expert  hands. 


CHAPTER  IX 

MR.  TESCHERON  became  badly  involved 
by  swallowing  the  bait,  hook  and  line,  in 
my  joke  about  notifying  the  coroner. 
When  I  went  to  bed  at  last,  wearied  with  deep 
thinking  and  the  sending  of  messages,  he  began 
again  on  a  new  line  which  I  had  not  figured  on. 
I  supposed  he  would  see  the  folly  of  proceeding 
farther,  conclude  that  I  knew  more  about  Jim 
Hosley  than  his  man,  Smith,  return  home  and 
wait  to  see  me  again  before  going  ahead.  But 
he  didn't  seem  to  realize  that  I  was  only  joking. 
I  was  so  plain-spoken  about  it — put  the  thing  so 
broadly — that  I  supposed  any  sane  man  would 
understand  I  was  merely  stating  my  loyalty  to 
Jim  in  terms  of  sarcasm.  All  jokes  to  fathers-in- 
law  of  the  Tescheron  inflammable  character 
should,  however,  be  labeled  in  big  letters,  the 
same  as  the  dynamite  they  ship  on  a  railroad,  ac- 
companied by  the  Traffic  Association's  book  en- 
titled, "Rules  for  the  Handling  of  Explosives." 

134 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       135 

To  Mr.  Tescheron  it  was  a  most  serious  matter 
to  consider  his  family  entangled  in  a  betrothal  fol- 
lowing immediately  the  commission  of  an  awful 
crime  by  the  man  who  had  won  his  daughter's 
hand.  I  had  informed  him  in  my  little  joke  that 
none  could  escape  the  coroner's  subpoena  unless 
they  left  the  State.  He  had  traveled  very  little 
in  this  country,  and  knew  few  places  out  of  the 
State  where  he  could  be  comfortable  with  his  fam- 
ily till  the  affair  blew  over.  The  Tescherons 
spent  their  summers  at  the  quiet  village  of  Stuke- 
ville,  where  they  had  a  comfortable  country  house ; 
it  was  not  pretentious,  but  it  was  beautifully  situ- 
ated on  a  knoll,  overlooking  the  neighboring  lake, 
and  from  the  broad  verandas  a  glimpse  of  the  dis- 
tant, more  densely  inhabited  portion  of  the  town 
might  be  obtained.  But  it  was  not  possible  to  fly 
to  Stukeville,  because  that  is  situated  in  New 
York.  He  had  once  stopped  at  a  hotel  in  Ho- 
boken  overnight,  before  taking  one  of  the  German 
steamers  for  France.  He  knew  the  place,  and  he 
would  have  his  family  there  before  eight  o'clock 
that  morning.  He  informed  Smith  that  he  would 
stop  with  his  family  in  the  Stuffer  House,  Ho- 
boken,  N.  J.,  just  beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  the 
subpoena  servers  of  the  New  York  coroners,  and 
he  accordingly  hastened  home  to  move  in  the  early 


136      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

morning,  his  wife,  daughter,  one  servant  and 
enough  of  their  belongings  to  supply  the  apart- 
ments of  the  Stuffer  House  with  a  few  of  the  cosy 
comforts  of  a  soft-cushioned  and  warm-slippered 
home. 

Now,  I  meant  no  harm  to  anybody,  and  cer- 
tainly not  to  the  innocent  women  of  the  Tescheron 
family,  when  I  airily  lied  about  the  coroner.  At 
the  other  end  of  the  line  the  joke  exploded,  and 
not  long  after  I  had  touched  the  fuse  with  my  last 
telegram.  Think  of  driving  the  Tescheron  fam- 
ily out  of  the  State!  Why,  nothing  could  have 
been  farther  away  from  my  mind,  but  what  hap- 
pened only  goes  to  show  that  theoretical  knowl- 
edge of  love  begets  idiocy,  while  the  XXX  variety 
of  A i  purity  cannot  be  fooled,  but  travels  with 
sure  steps  the  path  of  service  guided  by  wisdom 
that  springs  from  a  devoted  heart. 

"Marie,  Marie!  Wake  up  and  dress!  Ga- 
brielle,  the  worst  has  happened !  Quick,  we  must 
be  in  Hoboken  in  half  an  hour!  Do  as  I  say. 
Ask  no  questions.  Arrest  awaits  you  if  you  de- 
lay. What !  Aren't  you  going  to  stir  ?  Why  do 
you  lie  there,  Marie?  Be  quick!" 

Briefly  and  excitedly  Mr.  Tescheron  outlined 
to  his  startled  family  what  had  taken  place.  He 
told  them  of  the  awful  crime  and  Hosley's  con- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       137 

nection  with  it,  fully  convinced  that  it  had  all  hap- 
pened just  as  Smith  had  reported  and  satisfied 
that  the  Jim  Hosley  of  our  household  was  the 
guilty  villain.  He  heaped  on  a  violent  denuncia- 
tion of  Hosley,  using  many  of  Smith's  phrases, 
and  he  illustrated  his  comments  with  a  few  addi- 
tional incidents  in  that  infamous  career  taken 
from  the  forgery  cases  and  the  borderland  epi- 
sodes. As  a  Calif  or  nian  would  say,  "he  burned 
him  up." 

Thus  at  4  A.  M.,  just  as  I  was  turning  in  to  take 
my  last  nap  in  our  dear,  dilapidated  paradise,  and 
Jim  was  fidgeting  himself  into  the  mental  attitude 
which  would  call  for  a  turkey  bath,  Mr.  Tescheron 
was  sustaining  the  movement  of  the  play  by 
wildly  arousing  his  family  to  flight. 

"Albert,  you  are  all  unstrung  again,  my  dear," 
remonstrated  Mrs.  Tescheron,  who  was  in  no 
position  at  that  time  to  be  described.  "Take  some 
of  those  tablets  to  quiet  your  nerves — " 

Mr.  Tescheron  had  no  time  for  the  taking  of 
sedatives.  He  rushed  away  to  call  Katie,  the 
maid,  and  to  telephone  for  a  coach.  When  he 
returned,  his  exasperation  knew  no  bounds,  for 
his  good  wife  had  not  stirred  from  her  warm 
couch.  This  was  too  much.  From  that  point 
Hosley  received  the  worst  denunciations;  his 


138      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

ferocity  made  the  wife  murderers  of  criminal  his- 
tory and  the  cruel  Roman  emperors  seem  like 
mud-pie  and  croquet  efforts  in  this  line  of  in- 
famy. The  entreaty  was  then  renewed. 

"Come,  come,  Marie,  do  not  be  foolish,  my 
dear.  Get  up  and  get  ready.  I  have  awakened 
Katie  and  she  is  here  to  help  you  pack  a  small 
steamer  trunk  and  a  dress-suit  case.  Gabrielle! 
Gabrielle!" 

"Yes,  father,  let  us  start,"  replied  Gabrielle,  and 
she  entered  her  mother's  room,  rosy  and  wide- 
awake, with  her  gown  faultlessly  arranged  and 
her  hat  on  straight.  Her  fire-alarm  father  found 
her  right  there  to  give  him  all  the  rope  he  needed 
to  hang  himself.  Gabrielle's  gloves  were  on  and 
buttoned.  Her  neatly  rolled  umbrella  was  under 
her  left  arm  and  in  her  right  hand  she  carried  a 
new  leather  bag.  There  were  no  signs  of  won- 
der in  her  face ;  perhaps  a  touch  of  sadness  might 
have  been  noted  as  she  glanced  at  her  poor  mother 
in  pity ;  but  she  was  far  above  the  influences  which 
agitated  her  father  and  drove  him  into  precipitate 
action.  Gabrielle,  with  the  assistance  of  the  maid, 
soon  persuaded  Mrs.  Tescheron  and  prepared  her 
for  departure  into  that  foreign  land  vaguely  sit- 
uated on  the  map  of  the  earth,  as  she  remembered 
it.  With  heavy  sighs  and  gasps  she  told  where 


things  could  be  found  and  how  Bridget,  the  cook, 
was  to  feed  the  parrot.  She  would  take  the  par- 
rot, but  she  did  not  know  if  the  air  of  Hoboken 
agreed  with  birds.  While  undergoing  the  pro- 
cess of  hasty  preparation,  she  remembered  a  num- 
ber of  things  that  would  need  attention  that  morn- 
ing, so  it  was  necessary  also  to  bring  Bridget  in 
with  a  quilt  around  her — there  being  no  time  then 
for  her  to  dress — to  take  orders. 

When  the  drowsy  Bridget  was  hustled  in  to  re- 
ceive instructions,  she  was  not  a  tidy-looking 
cook,  and  until  Mr.  Tescheron  withdrew,  she  kept 
the  quilt  entirely  over  her  head,  for  her  womanly 
spirit  had  not  yet  been  stiffened  to  defiantly  glare 
at  man  by  those  delicate  touches — the  pasting  on 
of  her  front  hair-piece ;  the  tying  on  of  her  back 
switch  to  the  diminutive  stump  of  original 
tresses;  the  proper  adjustment  of  her  dental  fix- 
tures, her  collar  and  tie  and  the  various  articles 
constituting  the  sub-structure  necessary  for 
their  support.  We  cannot  go  into  the  details, 
because  the  plans  and  specifications  are  missing. 
Bridget  held  that  quilt  with  her  hands  and  mouth 
to  keep  behind  the  scenes  as  much  as  possible. 

"Bridget,  we  are  called  away  this  morning," 
said  Mrs.  Tescheron.  "Where  to  in  Hoboken, 
my  dear  Gabrielle?  We  must  leave  the  address." 


140      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

Gabrielle  called  down  the  hall  to  her  father, 
who  shouted  back  so  that  Bridget  might  have 
heard  if  buried  under  the  product  of  a  quilt 
mill: 

"Stuffer  House !     Stuffer  House !" 

"It's  a  pretty  name,  ma'am,"  said  Bridget.  "I'll 
bet  their  pancakes  taste  like  this  quilt.  You'll  not 
be  gone  long,  ma'am?  Is  it  near  Stukeville, 
ma'am?" 

"No,  no,  Bridget,  it's  nowhere  near  Stukeville. 
I  wish  it  were.  It's  in  Hoboken,  New  Jersey, 
Bridget.  Gabrielle,  please  write  it  down  for  her. 
Tidy  up  this  room,  Bridget,  and  if  anybody  calls, 
say  we  are  away  visiting  for  a  few  days — " 

"In  Hoebroken,  ma'am?" 

"Out  of  town  will  answer,  and  write  me  how 
things  are  going.  Do  not  use  soap  again  when 
you  wash  the  shell  in  the  aquarium.  If  the  par- 
rot becomes  lonesome — you  can  always  tell  be- 
cause he  goes  back  to  swearing — let  him  hear  the 
phonograph  for  half  an  hour  night  and  morning, 
if  you  are  too  busy  to  ring  the  dinner  bell  to 
amuse  him.  Be  careful  about  the  gas — so  many 
girls  are  dying  that  way  now — but  whatever  you 
do,  do  not  neglect  the  parrot;  he  is  such  a  com- 
fort to  me  and  is  such  a  good  parrot.  He  has 
reformed  so  much  since — " 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       141 

"Aren't  you  ready  yet,  my  dear?  The  coach 
is  here!"  shouted  Mr.  Tescheron,  who  was  anx- 
iously pacing  the  hall,  watch  in  hand.  It  was 
4 130 ;  a  whole  half  hour  had  passed  and  Hoboken 
had  not  yet  been  sighted,  whereas  visions  of  the 
coroner's  agents  and  scarehead  publicity  were 
everywhere. 

"Yes !  Yes !  Be  patient,  Albert ;  we  are  nearly 
ready.  And,  Bridget,  I  wish  you  would  make  up 
a  pound  cake  and  a  fruit  cake,  and  send  them  to 
me  by  express,  for  we  shall  miss  your  cooking 
so  much."  Mrs.  Tescheron  was  a  good  manager 
of  Bridget,  who  had  served  her  over  ten  years, 
and  she  knew  the  value  of  a  little  appreciation. 
The  last  time  they  moved,  Bridget  had  been  hur- 
ried into  the  yard  to  bring  the  clothes-poles,  but 
she  was  so  long  about  it  that  Mrs.  Tescheron  went 
to  look  for  her.  Bridget  in  those  emerald  days 
knew  little  of  clothes-poles,  the  sticks  they  used  to 
keep  the  sagging  line  up,  but  was  bent  on  moving 
the  clothes-posts,  an  entirely  different  variety  in 
the  forestry  of  a  city  back  yard.  The  four  posts 
were  firmly  planted  in  three  feet  of  hard-packed 
dirt.  She  bent  her  stout  back  to  the  task  of  bring- 
ing them  up  root  and  all,  and  with  a  winding  hold 
of  bulging  arms  and  feet  braced  to  the  flagging 
she  yanked,  tugged  and  strained,  turned  boiling 


142      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

red  and  spluttered  brogue  anathema.  Mrs.  Tesch- 
eron  found  her  thus  engaged. 

"The  bloomin'  t'ings  is  sthuck  in  the  dirrt, 
ma'am,  but  I'll  take  the  axe  to  'em." 

Mrs.  Tescheron  had  frequently  told  this  story 
with  pride  in  close  relation  to  some  modern  in- 
stance of  Bridget's  cleverness  in  domestic  service 
to  set  off  the  then  and  now,  with  the  reflections 
of  credit  for  the  mistress  the  historical  anecdote 
involved.  No  harm  could  come  to  the  home  in 
Bridget's  hands,  Mrs.  Tescheron  believed ;  but  no 
woman  could  leave  without  giving  orders.  When 
Bridget  moved  away,  sure  she  had  everything  in 
mind  just  as  it  was  to  receive  attention,  Mrs. 
Tescheron  gazed  about  the  room  blankly  as  if  she 
knew  something  must  have  been  overlooked,  till 
her  eyes  rested  on  her  calm,  patient  daughter,  the 
harbor  in  every  domestic  storm. 

"Gabrielle,  my  dear,"  asked  Mrs.  Tescheron 
softly,  "are  you  sure  this  Mr.  Hosley  is  the 
strong,  brave  man  you  think  he  is?  Remember, 
darling,  I  have  said  little  to  you  about  him — but 
really  he  seems  to  have  greatly  upset  your  father, 
and  having  done  that,  of  course,  our  home  is  in- 
volved. All  I  ask  of  you,  my  dear,  is,  are  you 
sure?  That  is  all.  I  know  how  easily  your 
father  is  led  away  to  follow  the  bent  of  his  own 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      143 

desires  and  I  know  you,  too,  my  dear — you  are 
my  own  sober,  thoughtful  father  again.  Tell  me, 
Gabrielle,  are  you  sure?" 

"I  am  perfectly  sure,  mother.  Father  places 
more  faith  in  hearsay  and  in  the  statements  of 
the  knaves  who  are  leading  him  on,  than  he  does 
in  anything  we  can  say.  I  am  glad  to  have  your 
confidence,  mother.  My  plan  is  to  allow  father 
to  do  as  he  wills,  so  that  he  may  run  the  full 
length  of  his  folly.  To  me,  it  is  most  foolish  and 
absurd;  but  why  argue  with  father  if  we  would 
convince  him  ?  You  know  all  we  can  do  is  to  let 
him  act  as  he  pleases.  He  shall  not  make  you 
uncomfortable,  mother.  I  will  let  him  storm  and 
rage,  but  he  must  not  send  you  to  some  horrible 
hotel  to  live  away  from  your  friends.  I  will — " 

"But  you  will  stay  there  with  me,  Gabrielle,  will 
you  not?" 

"I  shall  see  that  you  are  comfortably  settled 
there  and  then  I  shall  be  with  you  as  much  as 
possible — but  I  cannot  involve  the  office  in  these 
wild  capers.  Come,  or  we  shall  be  scolded 
Wouldn't  it  be  fine,  mother,  if  we  could  tame 
father?  But  cheer  up,  mother;  we  may  laugh 
last  about  this.  Let  us  see  the  bright  side  which 
is —  Come!  You  hear  him." 

Mother  and  daughter  descended  the  one  flight 


144      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

of  stairs  arm  in  arm,  preceded  by  the  impatient 
guide,  who  was  calculating  on  every  circumstance 
that  might  arise  between  Ninety-sixth  Street  and 
the  Hoboken  ferry.  Katie  trailed  behind  with 
bags  and  shawl-strap  bundles.  A  small  steamer 
trunk  that  Katie  had  filled  with  things  easy  to 
find  had  been  placed  on  the  front  of  the  coach  by 
the  driver,  who  evidently  regarded  the  job  as  the 
early  departure  of  a  European  party. 

When  the  three  women  were  stowed  in  the 
coach  after  less  than  an  hour's  preparation,  with 
their  sleep  rudely  disturbed  and  without  even  a 
cup  of  coffee  to  vanquish  the  chill  of  the  early 
morn,  it  may  be  assumed  that  they  were  not  more 
cheerful  than  the  dismal  gray  of  the  town.  The 
man  of  the  inside  party  had  been  awake  all  night ; 
he  was  feverish  and  fretful,  but  he  had  nothing 
to  say  in  the  presence  of  the  servant.  Katie  prob- 
ably believed  there  had  been  a  death  in  the  fam- 
ily, and  they  were  hastily  driving  to  the  home  of 
some  relative.  Most  of  the  conversation  was  be- 
tween Mrs.  Tescheron  and  Katie,  and  was  car- 
ried on  in  whispers.  Mrs.  Tescheron  drew  forth 
the  information  that  about  a  dozen  things  she 
would  not  need  were  in  the  trunk,  and  several 
score  of  necessities  had  been  left  at  home. 

"I  remember   the   Stuffer   House,"  said  Mrs. 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      145 

Tescheron,  making  bold  to  address  her  daughter. 
"Don't  you  remember  four  years  ago  we  stopped 
there  overnight?  It's  named,  I  suppose,  for  the 
proprietor,  who  told  me  he  was  of  the  same  fam- 
ily as  the  Stevenses  of  Hoboken.  Yes,  I  remem- 
ber, he  said  Stevens,  Steffens,  Stuffens  and 
Stuffers  all  came  from  the  same  family." 

"I  remember  the  stuffed  birds  everywhere," 
said  Gabrielle;  "many  of  them  exceedingly  rare 
specimens,  I  believe  some  one  said.  Somehow,  I 
have  always  connected  stuffed  birds  with  the 
Stuffer  House.  It  did  not  occur  to  me  that  Stuffer 
was  the  name  of  the  proprietor.  How  odd !" 

But  conversation  did  not  flow  freely,  for  the 
tension  of  the  occasion  had  been  too  tightly  wound 
by  the  impulsive  guardian  of  the  family's  honor. 
It  was  well  that  Katie  was  present  to  check  his 
temper,  through  pride,  or  the  poor  women  might 
have  been  scolded  again  for  their  dangerous  delay, 
as  coroners  go  forth  early  with  their  guns  loaded 
for  game  hiding  in  coaches. 

It  was  even  more  dismal,  cold  and  damp  in  the 
ferryboat.  Mrs.  Tescheron  fell  quietly  into  tears 
there.  This  overflow  of  her  emotions  was  not 
noticed  by  Mr.  Tescheron,  who  looked  steadily 
out  of  the  window  at  the  moving  engines.  Ga- 
brielle saw  her  mother  crying,  and  was  at  once 


146      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

overcome  with  pity;  to  Katie  it  seemed  as  if  she 
was  on  the  point  of  sharing  her  mother's  grief 
for  the  loved  one  now  mourned.  Katie  could  see 
that  Mrs.  Tescheron  had  thought  a  good  deal  of 
the  person,  whoever  it  might  be,  and  that  Miss 
Tescheron  had  shared  in  this  regard.  Mr.  Tesch- 
eron, on  the  other  hand,  seemed  to  be  provoked 
that  it  had  happened  until  the  boat  struck  the 
Hoboken  pier,  and  then  he  looked  out  of  the  coach 
window  with  a  smile,  indicating  a  change  of  opin- 
ion. The  smile  was  that  of  the  conquering  hero, 
outgeneraling  in  retreat  allied  forces  outnumber- 
ing his  small  army  a  thousand  times.  A  great 
head,  thought  Mr.  Tescheron,  may  beat  the  law, 
especially  if  it  keeps  awake  all  night  to  be  on  the 
field  early  in  the  morning. 

The  Stuffer  House,  founded  by  the  great- 
grandfather of  the  present  proprietor,  August 
Stuffer,  was  situated  not  far  from  the  ferry  and 
steamship  piers.  Its  Colonial  front  and  three 
stories  of  red  brick,  and  windows  with  small 
panes,  gave  it  the  air  of  a  Washington's  head- 
quarters, which  Mr.  Stuffer  could  undoubtedly 
prove  it  had  been,  for  his  tales  were  the  most 
convincing  arguments  that  the  hostelry  had  been 
named  by  a  whimsical  fate  not  too  dignified  to 
stoop  to  punning.  There  were  times  when  the 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       147 

hungry  boarders  thought  the  name  facetious,  but 
they  conceded  it  to  be  quite  exact  in  a  descriptive 
sense,  if  its  brick  and  mortar  were  intended  to 
honor  monumentally  the  tales  of  the  host.  His 
first  name,  August,  was  not  an  adjective  of  limi- 
tation as  to  time,  for  the  proprietor  was  A. 
Stuffer  every  month  and  day  in  the  year ;  and  his 
son  Emil,  a  quiet,  inoffensive  student  of  birds,  a 
taxidermist,  ornithologist  and  mechanical  engi- 
neer, and  a  graduate  of  the  neighboring  Stevens 
Institute,  world-famed  for  the  breadth  and  thor- 
oughness of  its  training,  was  a  worthy  son  in 
practically  applying  to  birds  abundant  science  and 
all  the  art  employed  by  his  father  to  hold  and 
encourage  trade  among  the  guests. 

It  was  about  6  o'clock  when  the  Tescheron 
coach  drew  up  at  the  old  port-cochere,  and  no  one 
but  the  night  clerk  was  about.  He  swung  the 
great  door  open  and  welcomed  them  to  the  hotel 
office,  a  large  living-room,  with  a  wide  brick  and 
rubble  fireplace  in  one  corner,  dimly  lighted  by  a 
log  fitfully  blazing,  fed  by  scant  draughts,  so 
deeply  was  it  choked  by  the  pile  of  ashes  from  the 
logs  that  had  served  to  brighten  the  busy  room 
the  night  before.  It  is  important  to  note  this  fire- 
place, for  long  afterward,  when  I  went  forth  to 
gather  impressions  at  first  hand,  and  there  heard 


148       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

Mr.  Stuffer  and  his  guests  warm  to  the  discus- 
sion of  every  topic  under  the  sun,  I  decided  that 
the  glow  of  inspiration  and  the  stimulating  inr 
cense  of  resinous  knots,  arising  from  that  corner, 
cast  the  witchery  which  wrought  conviction  in 
the  minds  of  men  less  wary  than  Mr.  Tescheron, 
who  might,  indeed,  have  renounced  all  his  worldly 
possessions  had  he  remained  more  than  six  weeks 
under  its  spell  to  escape  the  horrors  of  an  entan- 
glement in  the  meshes  of  foul  crime  across  the 
river.  I  see  now  how  it  must  have  affected  him — 
this  fireplace  talk.  Steam  heat  is  the  only  thing 
to  preserve  a  man's  common  sense,  and  if  he  be 
shy  of  that  desirable  faculty  he  should  be  ex- 
tremely careful  when  listening  or  talking,  even 
under  the  weak  spell  of  a  gilt  radiator.  It  is  a 
fact  of  science  that  certain  rays  of  light  exert  a 
hypnotic  influence  that  may  be  employed  to  effect 
anesthesia  for  minor  operations.  Perhaps  it  was 
the  influence  of  these  rays ;  I  know  not.  Nervous 
persons  are  especially  subject  to  their  vibrations, 
and  when  sitting  before  an  open  wood  fire,  highly 
productive  of  this  subtle  chemicalization,  the  vic- 
tims become  drowsy  and  fall  easily  into  the  mood 
of  the  most  extravagant  speaker.  Minor  opera- 
tions, under  which  head  we  may  include  the  ex- 
traction of  a  tooth  or  a  bank  balance,  are  then  sim- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       149 

pie,  if  the  operator  be  calm  and  skillful  in  the 
handling  of  his  instruments — often  mere  words, 
but  powerful  tools  under  these  favorable  condi- 
tions. 

The  hotel  clerk  was  assured  that  the  Tesch- 
erons  did  not  intend  to  take  a  steamer  or  a  train ; 
that  they  might  remain  a  day  or  two,  perhaps 
longer,  and  would  need  four  rooms  and  a  bath 
on  the  sunny  side  of  the  house,  on  the  second 
floor,  away  from  the  elevator  and  the  noise  of  the 
kitchen.  They  would  take  breakfast  as  soon  as 
it  could  be  served. 

"No  breakfast  for  me,  thank  you,  papa,  I  am 
going  right  over  to  the  office  now.  Good-bye, 
mother  dear;  Katie,  look  after  her  well.  I  shall 
return  early.  Good-bye — "  and  Gabrielle  turned 
to  kiss  her  father,  having  embraced  her  tearful 
mother.  But  he  could  not  recover  himself  to  dis- 
play his  affection  at  that  time. 

"Gabrielle,  you  surely  are  not  going!  You 
surely  are  not!  Think  of  the  consequences  and 
accept  my  judgment  in  this  awful  extremity !" 

"Father,  you  may  have  your  own  way  in  every- 
thing, but  my  business  affairs  must  not  be  in- 
volved. The  coach  is  going.  I'll  ride  back  in  it." 

Quickly  she  kissed  him  and  darted  out  of  the 
door  and  into  the  carriage  and  away. 


CHAPTER  X 

WHAT  is  this  unerring  clairvoyance  that 
prompts  devoted  hearts  in  moments 
of  danger,  in  crises  demanding  super- 
natural judgment  ?  It  is  the  very  essence  of  much 
of  our  song  and  story,  but  the  wise  men  do  not 
grasp  its  origin;  to  them  it  is  as  elusive  and  in- 
capable of  isolation  from  its  forms  of  manifesta- 
tion as  that  phase  of  force  we  call  electricity.  An 
old  gentleman  whom  I  knew  well,  a  learned  man, 
far  above  all  superstitions,  arose  from  the  sofa  in 
his  home  one  afternoon  and  announced  to  the 
startled  family  that  his  son  was  in  the  water.  He 
noted  the  time  and  anxiously  awaited  news,  so 
firm  was  his  belief  that  tmth  must  have  inspired 
his  vivid  dream.  That  night  he  learned  that  the 
very  moment  he  had  announced  his  fears  his  son 
had  fallen  into  the  river  and  was  so  held  under 
by  logs  that  he  narrowly  escaped  drowning.  This 
was  probably  the  same  miraculous  power  love  em- 
ploys in  youth  to  laugh  at  locksmiths;  it  is  the 

150 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       151 

inherent  wisdom  of  the  passion  deeper  than  our 
philosophy  can  delve ;  it  warns  at  times,  and  then 
again  it  will  save  without  warning,  strangely 
leading  us  to  the  post  of  duty. 

It  was  too  early  to  go  to  the  office — then  about 
6 145 — when  Gabrielle  Tescheron's  coach  landed 
on  the  New  York  side  of  the  North  River.  While 
coming  across  the  ferry  she  believed  it  would  be 
wise  to  take  the  opportunity  to  visit  Jim  at  his 
apartment  in  Eighteenth  Street,  and  inform  him 
of  the  action  I  had  taken  in  notifying  the  cor- 
oner, and  therefore  to  beware  of  me,  for  it  was 
plain  that  her  father  had  convinced  me,  although 
he  was  unable  to  restrain  and  sway  me  to-  accept 
his  plan  of  privacy.  Gabrielle  had  classed  me  as 
a  dull  fellow,  not  able  to  see  beneath  the  shallow 
case  of  Smith.  Little  did  she  imagine  that  I  had 
laughed  at  her  father  and  ridiculed  his  course  at 
my  interview  with  him.  She  jumped  to  the  con- 
clusion that  I  had  notified  the  coroner,  to  make 
sure  of  a  conviction  at  any  cost,  so  thoroughly 
had  I  been  convinced  of  Jim's  guilt  by  the  evi- 
dence her  father  had  laid  before  me,  and  so  high 
was  my  sense  of  honor  and  duty  to  the  com- 
munity. This  action  on  my  part  she  assumed 
would  result  in  the  publicity  her  father  dreaded, 
but  eventually  would  lead  to  Jim's  vindication; 


152      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

she  deplored  my  lack  of  faith  in  my  companion; 
she  marveled\that  I,  too,  should  have  fallen  so  eas- 
ily a  prey  to  the  sharpers  who  were  deceiving  her 
hot-headed,  obstinate  father,  whose  senses  were 
alert  for  every  word  or  sign  that  would  smirch, 
by  even  so  much  as  a  shadow,  the  man  he  would 
overthrow.  If  it  had  been  possible  for  Gabrielle 
Tescheron  to  understand  that  I  had  read  her  im- 
pulsive father's  character  aright,  and  that  my  loy- 
alty to  Jim  Hosley  at  the  time  was  as  firm  as  her 
own,  our  difficulties  would  have  been  greatly  sim- 
plified. My  joke  turned  its  other  edge  on  me  and 
cut  me  off  from  her  confidence,  but  not  from  her 
good-will,  as  expressed  in  the  beautiful  flowers,  in 
the  hope  that  I  might  turn  from  pursuing  Jim 
and  become  a  staunch  advocate  of  his  cause,  when 
I  realized,  as  she  did  and  as  I  surely  must,  how 
strong  and  true  he  was  and  how  far  above  the 
rogues  who  would  smirch  him  for  gain.  But  it 
was  plain  to  her  that  I  had  been  turned  against 
Jim  by  her  father,  and  had  gone  far  beyond  the 
point  her  father  intended  to  reach  in  his  attack  on 
Hosley.  Jim  must  be  quickly  warned  not  to  place 
any  more  confidence  in  me,  for  I  had  taken  hasty 
action  that  would  soon  involve  them  all  in  a  crim- 
inal investigation,  full  of  unpleasant  notoriety  even 
for  the  innocent.  Jim  should  also  be  well  advised 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       153 

by  an  able  criminal  lawyer  to  protect  him  against 
these  rogues  and  intemperate  reasoners. 

But  these  thoughts  which  came  to  Gabrielle  and 
seemed  to  her  to  be  the  impelling  force  that  di- 
rected her  to  Eighteenth  Street  that  morning,  to 
my  mind  now,  read  in  the  light  of  the  whole  story, 
were  really  only  the  miraculous  methods  of  that 
clairvoyance,  operating  under  the  veil  of  mystery 
beyond  reason.  My  shallow  joke,  I  insist,  could 
not  have  been  the  cause.  With  an  unshaken  faith 
in  Jim  and  no  danger  threatening  him,  I  am  con- 
fident she  would  have  remained  at  the  hotel, 
taken  breakfast  with  her  father  and  mother,  and 
then,  perhaps,  have  leisurely  departed  for  her 
office,  to  tell  laughingly  of  the  early  morning 
flight  to  Jim  at  some  trysting  place  in  the  com- 
mercial section  of  the  town  later  in  the  day. 
Faith,  without  real  danger,  would  have  meant  a 
contented  mind,  whether  or  not,  it  seems  to  me,  I 
had  notified  one  coroner  or  a  thousand,  for  it 
would  have  been  only  part  of  the  general  plan 
to  give  the  widest  scope  to  Jim's  detractors,  and 
to  take  no  part  in  counter-plotting  any  more  than 
she  would  ally  herself  with  her  father's  villainous 
advisers.  The  utter  absurdity  of  my  joke,  I 
firmly  believe,  would  have  appeared  plainly  to  her 
had  the  real  danger  of  the  fire  not  been  appre- 


154      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

bended  by  her  intuitions,  far  keener  than  she  sus- 
pected, and  so  interpreted  to  her  will  as  to  lead 
her  without  fear  to  the  very  spot  she  was  most 
needed  in  all  the  world, 


AS  the  coach  turned  into  Eighteenth  Street, 
Gabrielle  was  prepared  to  meet  the  emer- 
gency, for  all  at  once  it  came  upon  her 
that  duty  had  brought  her  to  the  spot.  She  saw 
the  excitement  surrounding  the  fire  and  knew  why 
she  was  there.  The  coachman,  following  her  or- 
der, drew  up  to  the  curb,  so  that  she  might  alight. 
She  dismissed  him  and  then  pushed  through  the 
crowd,  now  scattering,  to  the  fire  lines,  and  as 
she  proceeded  she  saw  the  building  on  our  corner 
had  been  partly  destroyed;  apparently  the  flames 
had  done  the  most  damage  in  the  upper  stories. 
Her  first  question  was  put  to  a  policeman  on 
guard  near  the  edge  of  the  crowd : 

"Officer,  please  tell  me  if  there  were  any  per- 
sons injured  at  the  fire?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  two  men;  they  were  taken  to 
Bellevue,  ma'am." 

With  a  simple  word  of  thanks  she  turned  away. 
If  the  officers  were  then  in  pursuit  of  her  Jim,  she 

166 


156      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

would  find  him  first  and  shield  him  with  her  wit 
as  many  a  woman  had  done  before  under  like  con- 
ditions. The  ambulances  had  gone  half  an  hour 
before,  but  she  would  follow  directly  to  the  hos- 
pital and  first  seek  out  there  the  man  whose  ter- 
rible fate  was  foretold  by  her  fears.  Why  had 
she  not  kept  the  coach  to  take  her  to  Bellevue  ?  It 
had  been  dismissed  when  she  wished  to  avoid  even 
the  possible  testimony  of  a  coachman.  Quickly 
she  summoned  a  cab  and  a  few  minutes  later  she 
was  in  the  hospital  ready  to  shield  Jim  Hosley 
from  all  harm  if  he  were  there. 

Gabrielle  found  him  unconscious  and  quickly 
identified  him  as  her  brother,  George  Marshall. 

"I  should  like  to  have  him  placed  in  a  private 
room,"  she  said  to  the  hospital  superintendent. 
"Please  have  it  next  to  that  of  his  friend,  Mr. 
Benjamin  Hopkins.  I  want  them  to  have  the 
best  care  from  your  physicians  and  nurses  that 
may  be  obtained.  There  is  no  sacrifice  that  I 
would  not  make  to  save  the  lives  of  these  brave 
men  who  have  suffered  so  terribly." 

Several  weeks  afterward  I  learned  that  my 
name  and  that  of  George  Marshall  had  appeared 
in  the  papers  for  a  few  days  until  the  hospital  doc- 
tors announced  that  we  would  probably  recover. 
The  public  accepted  that  as  a  finality  quite  as 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      157 

agreeably  as  if  we  had  died  of  our  injuries,  and 
so  we  sank  below  the  horizon  again.  Our  thrill- 
ing rescue  by  the  fire  department  net,  with  a  vague 
mention  of  our  injuries  received  while  falling 
against  the  useless  fire  escapes,  was  part  of  the 
news  of  the  day;  also  the  fact  that  I  had  been 
thrown  from  the  window  and  that  a  search  had 
been  made  of  the  ruins,  but  no  trace  of  Hosley 
could  be  found.  In  a  few  days,  he,  too,  appeared 
to  be  forgotten.  My  brother  had  not  seen  any  of 
his  folks  up  home  and  none  of  them  had  driven 
over  to  our  place,  a  distance  of  ten  miles.  We 
boys  had  been  away  so  long,  the  two  families  had 
rather  lost  track  of  each  other,  I  supposed,  al- 
though it  did  seem  strange  to  me.  I  made  little 
mention  of  Jim  in  my  letters  to  the  old  home 
folks.  The  bad  news,  I  knew,  would  leak  out  in 
time  and  my  chuckle-headedness  would  be  as 
much  a  part  of  the  village  gossip  as  the  story  of 
his  crime. 

A  few  days  after  I  had  regained  consciousness 
I  began  to  'discuss  with  Hygeia  the  other  man 
who  was  injured  at  the  fire. 

"What  sort  of  a  looking  man  is  that  fellow, 
George  Marshall,  who  was  hurt  ?"  I  asked,  think- 
ing he  might  be  Hosley  under  another  name  and 
she  not  know  it. 


158      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"He  seemed  rather  slight  in  build,"  she  an- 
swered demurely.  "I  should  say  he  weighed 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds."  Jim  had 
lost  weight,  but  I  did  not  think  of  that. 

"Any  of  his  folks  been  here?  With  whom  did 
he  live  ?  What  flat  ?  Which  house  ?" 

"Well,  now,  I  shan't  say;  really,  I  shan't  say 
who  has  been  here  to  see  him.  Look  to  yourself." 

"Why  can't  I  go  in  and  talk  to  him?  Is  he 
awake?" 

"How  could  you?  Why  are  you  so  foolish 
now  to  worry  about  him?  He  doesn't  bother  his 
head  about  you.  Haven't  you  had  all  you  want 
of  that  fire,  without  talking  it  all  over  again  with 
that  man  ?" 

"I'd  like  first  rate  to  have  a  talk  with  that  fel- 
low. Maybe  I  know  him." 

"Well,  I  know  you  are  a  great  man  to  talk,  but 
we  shan't  let  you  talk  him  to  death." 

"Say,  can't  you  tell  me  what  sort  of  a  looking 
dub  he  is?" 

"A  what?  Most  of  the  time  you  seem  to  speak 
Welsh." 

"How  are  you  so  cock-sure  his  name  is  George 
Marshall?" 

"How  do  I?    Well!  well!" 

"Why,  look  here!    Isn't  it  natural  for  me  to 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       159 

ask  about  him?  Didn't  we  pass  through  almost 
the  same  experience?  Why,  I  am  simply  bound 
to  know  that  fellow,  that's  all  there  is  about  it." 

"Tut,  tut !  Certainly  you  shall  know  him.  But 
not  now,  when  you  are  too  weak  to  walk  and  he 
is  suffering  even  more  pain.  Rest  easy,  now ;  be 
as  calm  as  you  can  and  soon  you  and  the  other 
patient  may  talk  it  all  over  together." 

"Say,  haven't  you  seen  anybody  around  his 
room  coming  to  see  him?" 

"Urn !  Let  me  think."  And  she  knitted  her 
brows  and  shaped  that  small  mouth  to  a  Cupid's 
bow,  whence  many  an  arrow  has  shot  through 
me.  "Why,  I  can't  say."  And  she  smiled  teas- 
ingly. 

"Come,  you  must  have  some  idea.  How  far 
from  here  is  his  room?" 

"Why,  yes;  I  do  remember  seeing  some  one 
there  a  few  times.  It  was  his  little  girl." 

"Oh,  I  see,  a  married  man.  Egad,  I  remem- 
ber a  man  in  the  house  next  door  who  had  a  little 
girl.  She  was  an  awfully  sweet  little  thing — 
dimples  in  her  cheeks ;  little  curls  down  at  the  side 
over  her  ears — most  generally,  though,  wagging 
around  in  front  I've  often  seen  him  kiss  her  so 
tenderly.  She  was  so  pretty!  Well,  there's  noth- 
ing like  it." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  old  joke  that  a  woman  can't  keep  a  se- 
cret still  appears  in  many  variations  to 
illuminate  the  mind  of  the  waiting  man, 
driven  to  lithographed  hilarity  in  the  barber-shop 
comics.  In  real  life,  when  not  under  the  spell  of 
this  brilliant  six-colored  wit,  we  find  ourselves  at 
a  disadvantage  frequently,  because  women  keep 
their  secrets  too  well.  Hygeia  was  loyal  to  Ga- 
brielle,  and  together  they  shielded  Jim  Hosley 
from  his  pursuers,  and  among  the  latter  I  was 
reckoned  as  one  of  the  most  dangerous. 

Mr.  Tescheron  was  soon  convinced  that  Ho- 
boken  was  the  place  he  should  tarry.  It  might 
appear  that  a  day  or  two  of  rest  in  that  place 
would  have  satisfied  him  that  he  might  return  to 
New  York,  but  there  was  a  good  reason  why  he 
should  not  take  the  risk  of  living  in  his  own  home. 
And  this  reason  strengthened  Gabrielle  in  the  be- 
lief that  I  had  notified  the  coroner  of  the  Brown- 
ing case  and  really  entertained  the  same  view 

160 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       161 

of  Hosley  as  her  father.  On  the  third  day  after 
their  arrival  at  the  Stuffer  House,  Mr.  Tescheron 
received  this  letter  from  the  manager  of  his  com- 
pany, Mr.  King,  who  wrote  from  the  market : 

"A  man  came  to  this  office  this  morning  with 
a  coroner's  subpoena  for  you  to  testify  in  the 
Browning  case.  I  read  it  carefully  and  noted 
that  it  was  signed  by  Coroner  Flanagan.  The 
man  told  me  he  had  been  up  to  your  house  in 
Ninety-sixth  Street.  He  seemed  very  anxious  to 
find  you,  and  waited  around  for  some  time  after 
I  had  positively  assured  him  you  had  gone  West 
on  business.  Hope  what  I  did  was  O.  K.  He 
also  wanted  to  know  if  you  had  spoken  to  me  re- 
garding a  fire  and  the  disappearance  of  a  Mr. 
Hosley.  I  had  no  knowledge  of  the  matter  and 
so  informed  him.  Shipments  are  running  heavy 
to-day  on  Western  orders.  As  you  have  gone 
that  way,  there  may  be  a  reason  for  this. 
"  Yours  truly, 

"J.  M.  KING." 

This  letter  stiffened  Mr.  Tescheron  consider- 
ably in  his  purpose  to  remain  in  Hoboken.  The 
following  from  Bridget  to  Mrs.  Tescheron  added 
corroboration,  which  tended  to  brace  that  purpose 


162      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

still  more,  and  it  was  quite  sufficient  to  keep  the 
family  under  Mr.  Staffer's  roof  for  six  weeks : 

"A  man  from  the  corner  was  here  wid  a  bit  of 
paper,  an'  sed  he  shud  see  yer.  I  ast  him  which 
corner,  and  he  sed  it  was  Flanigans  the  sayloon 
is  Finnegans  do  yer  no  any  Flanigan  on  our  cor- 
ner the  Parrit  is  lookin  well  the  cakes  is  dun. 
"Respectably  yours, 

"BRIDGET." 

I  am  not  surprised,  realizing  Mr.  Tescheron's 
mental  condition,  that  these  letters  convinced  him 
the  place  of  safety  was  beyond  the  borders  of 
New  York  State. 

"It  is  a  very  cosy  spot  here,  Marie,"  said  Mr. 
Tescheron,  after  he  had  read  the  letters  to  his 
wife  and  Gabrielle,  who  made  it  a  point  to  be  with 
her  mother  early  every  evening.  During  the  day 
she  spent  most  of  her  time  at  the  hospital  min- 
istering to  Jim. 

Mr.  Tescheron's  admiration  of  the  Stuffer 
House  intensified  as  time  wore  on  and  he  found 
he  was  safe  there.  His  sagacity  in  the  matter 
encouraged  him,  and  he  soon  took  risks  by  ven- 
turing into  the  heart  of  New  York  dressed  in  a 
suit  which  made  him  appear  like  a  City  Hall  Park 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       163 

hobo,  with  slouch  hat  and  long  ulster,  such  as 
market  men  wear  loosely  belted  like  great  aprons. 
Under  these  coverings  he  dared  to  go  as  far  as 
Fulton  Market  about  three  times  a  week,  taking 
the  most  circuitous  route  around  the  lower  edge 
of  New  York,  via  the  slow  but  sure  Belt  Line 
horse  car  along  West  and  South  streets.  To  be 
sure,  he  put  in  most  of  his  time  traveling,  but  the 
coroner  did  not  catch  him,  and  this  fact  demon- 
strated the  cleverness  of  the  tactics. 

The  shabby  disguise  might  have  saved  him,  it 
seems  to  me,  even  if  the  entire  police  force  of  the 
city  had  been  after  him,  for  normally  Mr.  Tesch- 
eron  was  one  of  the  tidiest  little  men.  He  usually 
shined  like  a  new  hat  out  of  a  bandbox.  He 
was  patent-leathered,  smooth-jowled,  rosy,  crisp, 
pretty-nailed,  creased,  stick-pinned  and  embossed 
on  the  vest.  Nothing  that  a  steam  laundry  and 
the  latest  machinery  for  man-embellishing,  from 
custom  tailoring  to  Staten  Island  and  hair  dyeing, 
could  do  to  obliterate  the  fish  business  from  his 
personality  had  been  omitted  in  compiling  this  de 
luxe,  numbered  and  signed  copy  of  a  man.  But 
my  investigations  lead  me  to  believe  that  Mr. 
Tescheron  was  not  exceptional  in  this  respect  at 
the  market.  Like  Napoleon,  the  wholesale  fish 
dealers  all  fit  circumstances  to  obstacles.  A  man 


164      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

who  slips  and  skids  around  all  day  in  a 
wholesale  fish  market  is  usually  rich  and,  I 
find,  makes  up  his  average  on  pulchritude  after 
business  hours. 

Mr.  Tescheron  maintained  a  high  record.  When 
he  was  not  in  his  shop  togs  you  would  not  rec- 
ognize him  any  more  than  the  made-over  old  fam- 
ily umbrella  that  Has  ten  times  re-covered  its  ribs 
and  boldly  fronted  the  hilarious  wind,  ever  ready 
to  blow  it  off.  It  was  always  surprising  to  me  how 
he  could  produce  such  marvelous  synthetic  effects 
from  the  elemental  forms  found  on  the  Monday 
morning's  clothes-line. 

I  don't  know  how  true  it  is,  but  a  chap  down 
in  the  market  once  told  me  that  all  the  members 
of  the  Market  Men's  Association  found  it  annoy- 
ing to  remove  the  flies  that  had  been  blinded  by 
the  glint  of  their  bosoms  and  had  slipped  and 
broken  necks  on  the  starchy  glaciers  of  those 
Alpine  precipices  of  dazzling  shirting  displayed  at 
the  annual  dinners  of  the  society.  It  is  only  nat- 
ural that  the  market  flies  should  want  to  attend, 
for  they  stick  closer  than  a  brother  to  the  mem- 
bers of  this  brotherhood.  Mr.  Tescheron's  sar- 
torial perfection  was  only  an  exigency  of  his  busi- 
ness, and  if  his  armor  was  more  striking  than 
that  of  the  ordinary  man,  I,  for  one,  was  ready  to 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       165 

forgive  him.  The  fact  must  remain  that  the  best 
dressed  men  of  New  York  are  the  wholesale  fish 
dealers  of  Fulton  Market — after  business  hours — 
when  they  transform  to  escape  the  torments  of  a 
perennial  fly-time. 

Gabrielle  did  confide  in  her  mother,  but  her 
father  was  none  the  wiser.  He  listened  to  Smith, 
and  concluded  that  Hosley  had  skipped,  having 
learned  in  some  way  that  the  authorities  were 
after  him.  If  he  should  be  found  and  brought 
back  to  New  York,  the  coroner  might  begin  his 
investigations  at  once  and  proceed  with  other  wit- 
nesses. In  that  event  the  name  of  Tescheron 
would  undoubtedly  be  dragged  into  the  case,  but 
if  the  family  kept  out  of  the  State  they  could  not 
be  made  to  testify.  In  Mr.  Tescheron's  judg- 
ment, therefore,  it  was  wise  to  spend  a  few  weeks 
well  out  of  the  way  until  they  were  certain  the 
affair  had  been  forgotten. 

"Mother,  I  think  the  change  may  do  us  good, 
if  we  don't  take  father  too  seriously,"  said  Ga- 
brielle, "and  if  you  can  find  enough  to  occupy 
yourself  until  some  favorable  suggestion  changes 
father's  course,  and  he  is  seized  by  a  desire  to 
return  home,  I  shall  be  happy.  Aren't  you  get- 
ting tired  of  the  company  of  these  stuffed  birds, 
though?  I  shall  send  your  parrot  over  to-mor- 


166      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

row  and  have  Bridget  come  to  talk  over  the 
housekeeping-  affairs  with  you,  shall  I?" 

"No,  dear ;  we  shall  be  happy  enough  with  these 
silent  birds  for  a  while  yet.  Alas !  if  it  is  true 
that  the  officials  want  us — and  it  must  be  true,  as 
Bridget  and  Mr.  King  have  both  written — " 

"Don't  worry  about  that,  mother;  you  will  be 
just  as  proud  of  Mr.  Hosley  some  day  as  I  am. 
Oh,  he  is  so  brave!  Think  how  he  rescued  his 
companion,  Ben  Hopkins,  and  then  fell  blinded  by 
the  flames.  What  a  terrible  fall  that  was,  mother ! 
just  twice  the  height  of  this  building — you  really 
cannot  imagine  it.  Do  rogues  show  such  hero- 
ism ?  I  tell  you,  mother,  you'll  find,  one  of  these 
brighter  days,  that  James  Hosley  is  a  great,  big- 
hearted  hero,  as  far  above  these  petty  attacks  on 
his  character,  so  readily  believed  by  father,  as 
the  mountains  are  above  the  sea.  He  has  nothing 
to  fear.  Remember,  a  cruel  fate  struck  him  down 
at  the  very  moment  he  might  have  explained  away 
every  circumstance  to  which  father  attaches 
weight,  merely  by  stating  the  truth.  Mother,  I 
have  never  doubted  my  hero !" 

"Yes,  my  dear  child,  you  are  right.  I  feel  that 
you  are.  Forgive  me  for  expressing  that  shadow 
of  doubt;  it  is  now  gone.  I  am  thankful  that 
God  led  your  footsteps  to  his  bedside,  where  you 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      167 

might  help  to  rescue  him  and  his  companion.  I 
am  indeed  proud  of  you,  Gabrielle.  How  greatly 
I  am  blessed  by  you  every  minute !"  And  the  dear 
old  soul  cried,  her  heart  welling  with  love  for  her 
daughter,  her  confidante  and  support. 

Then  Gabrielle  knelt  at  her  mother's  side  and 
buried  her  face  in  her  mother's  lap,  her  tears  flow- 
ing in  sympathetic  response  to  this  declaration  of 
maternal  faith. 

It  is  a  good  thing  I  was  not  there  at  that  time, 
for  at  the  sight  of  tears  in  the  faces  of  those  dear 
women  I  would  have  been  driven  to  sheer  mad- 
ness. I  believe  I  would  have  taken  a  club  to  the 
hard-hearted  or  stupid  Tescheron  and  murdered 
him  with  mince-meat  minuteness  in  the  presence 
of  the  gossipers  lolling  around  the  fireplace  in 
the  living-room.  At  the  time  of  the  tearful  scene 
between  mother  and  daughter,  a  dramatic  passage 
that  has  its  counterpart  in  many  homes  invaded  by 
a  son-in-law,  the  cruel  Tescheron,  the  obstacle  in 
the  path  of  true  love,  was  listening  to  mine  host, 
August  Stuffer,  three  hundred  and  fifty-two 
pounds  of  Hoboken  manhood  seated  in  a  Windsor 
chair  built  of  wood  and  steel  to  resemble  the  Will- 
iamsburg  Bridge  about  the  legs,  so  stoutly  was  it 
trussed,  braced  and  riveted  to  carry  its  enormous 
load.  This  wheezy  spinner  of  yarns,  in  a  tone 


168       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

of  apoplectic  huskiness,  was  telling  his  guests 
about  the  peculiar  stuffed  cat,  which  advertised 
the  hotel  far  and  wide  from  its  glass  case  near 
the  main  entrance. 

It  was  my  joke  that  introduced  Mr.  Tescheron 
to  this  cat.  Mr.  Stuffer's  eloquence  and  the  fire's 
hypnotic  rays  must  have  worked  the  consequent 
charm  at  which  I  have  often  marveled. 

"Jersey  Jerry  was  the  name  of  that  cat,"  said 
Stuffer,  a  gentle  wheeze  playing  about  his  upper 
rigging,  as  he  spread  out  into  the  open  sea  of 
truth.  "And  he  was  a  most  unfortunate  cat,  be- 
cause he  was  born  blind  and  had  to  learn  the  town 
by  feeling  his  way.  He  went  everywhere  and 
had  more  friends  than  most  cats  with  eyes — 
strange  but  true — and  principally  among  cats.  He 
was  sociable  because  he  had  to  work  his  friends. 
He  knew  us  around  here  by  our  sounds"  (it  was 
an  easy  matter  for  him  to  sound  the  tale-teller), 
"and  he  used  to  rub  his  whiskers  against  a 
stranger's  legs  till  he  got  to  know  the  man.  You'd 
V  thought  he'd  rub  'em  all  off,  but  not  so;  it 
seemed  to  make  'em  grow  twice  as  long — biggest 
whiskers  for  a  cat  of  his  size  I  ever  see.  Well, 
sir,  I  came  down  here  to  the  back  door  one  night 
to  lock  up,  heard  him  scratching  and  let  him  in. 
He  gave  me  an  awful  scare,  for  as  he  looked  up 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       169 

two  big  blazing  eyes  shone  brighter  than  the  lan- 
tern I  was  carrying.  From  his  squeal  I  knew  it 
was  Jerry,  so  I  picked  him  up  and  brought  him 
over  here  to  get  a  good  look  at  him.  I  could  see 
at  once  that  it  was  the  work  of  those  Stevens  stu- 
dents. They  had  taken  an  ordinary  pair  of  glass 
eyes  such  as  are  made  for  stuffed  cats,  and  in  the 
back  of  each  eye  had  fitted  a  tiny  electric  light, 
such  as  you've  probably  seen  attached  to  a  button- 
hole bouquet,  only  they  were  smaller,  of  course. 
I  noticed  when  his  tail  went  up  the  lights  were 
turned  on  and  they  blazed  like  he  had  gone  mad, 
but  when  his  tail  went  down  it  cut  off  the  lights 
like  you've  seen  'em  shut  off  in  a  trolley  car  when 
the  pole  falls — same  principle,  I  guess,  somehow. 
It  all  kind  of  puzzled  me  for  a  time,  till  I  got  to 
thinking  about  it." 

"Nonsense!  Where  did  the  electricity  come 
from?"  asked  a  man  who  doubted. 

"Electricity?  A  cat's  full  of  electricity.  Every- 
body knows  that,  and  those  Stevens  students  sim- 
ply connected  it  up  to  run  two  lights  with  a  cut- 
out at  the  back.  Of  course,  when  the  cat  died 
the  natural  electricity  gave  out,  and  so  I  had  him 
connected  with  the  company's  wires  and  the  tail 
fixed  to  run  by  works  run  by  the  current,  to  make 
'em  blaze  and  shut  off  and  seem  just  as  old  Jerry 


170      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

used  to.  He  was  a  great  comfort  to  me  witH 
those  eyes,  and  I  think  they  helped  him  to  see  as 
well  as  feel,  for  he  didn't  rub  any  more,  but 
flashed  his  eyes  when  he  was  inquisitive  and 
wanted  to  save  steps. 

"But  it  killed  him.  Modern  improvements  on 
a  cat  brought  up  to  going  it  blind  in  Hoboken 
were  too  much.  A  man  got  the  delirium  trem- 
blings looking  at  Jerry  one  night  and  kicked 
him  nine  mortal  blows  before  he  could  get  his 
tail  up." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Tescheron,  "those  Stevens 
students  must  be  wonders.  I  never  supposed  there 
was  any  good  thing  came  out  of  Hoboken." 

"The  town  suits  me  all  right,"  replied  Mr. 
Stuffer.  "There's  many  a  good  thing  passes 
through  here."  He  winked  at  Emil. 

"There  ain't  nothing  a  Stevens  student  can't 
do — nothing  calling  for  brains,"  said  Mr.  Stuffer. 
"They  get  chock  full  of  mathematics  up  there,  so's 
they  can  engineer  anything  from  a  turbine  plant 
to  a  pin  where  it's  most  needed,  or  a  marriage 
factory.  Anything  that  calls  for  brains  is  right 
in  their  line.  If  I  ever  get  into  any  kind  of 
trouble  at  all  I'll  get  a  Stevens  engineer  to  rig 
me  up  some  kind  of  a  derrick  to  pull  me  out  of  it." 

At  his  leisure,  Mr.  Tescheron  now  marvels  at 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       171 

the  great  ability  of  Stevens  men.  He  feels  that 
he  is  a  competent  judge. 

It  was  evident  that  the  Stevens  students  who 
crowded  the  Stuffer  House  had  duly  impressed 
the  present  proprietor  with  their  ability  to  over- 
come every  obstacle  in  life's  path  with  special 
machinery  to  fit  each  case. 

"Why,  one  of  those  students  told  me  some 
years  ago,"  continued  Mr.  Stuffer,  "that  he  once 
provided  plans  and  specifications  to  supply  a  girl 
with  beaus." 

None  of  the  company  now  seemed  to  doubt,  so 
Mr.  Stuffer  proceeded  to  prove  his  proposition 
that  a  technical  education  at  Stevens  comprehends 
the  repairing  of  difficult  cases  of  side-stepped 
heart. 

"Yes,  I  remember,  now,  it  was  the  case  of  little 
Mary  Schwarz,"  he  continued.  "And  she  never 
knew,  doesn't  to  this  day  probably,  how  it  all  came 
about  that  suddenly  she  had  more  beaus  than  she 
could  attend  to.  They  fairly  froze  her  in  ice 
cream — " 

Mrs.  Tescheron  had  recovered  and  was  ringing 
three  times  for  hot  water  as  per  the  card  of  in- 
structions tacked  near  the  push-button  in  her 
room. 

"They  are  not  remarkably  prompt  here,"  she 


172      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

murmured.  "I  wonder  what  can  be  the  matter 
every  evening." 

Mr.  Stuffer,  who  was  supposed  to  be  on  duty 
at  the  annunciator,  in  his  dual  capacity  of  hall 
boy  and  host,  heard  not  its  alarm,  for  he  was 
well  under  way  with  a  yarn. 

He  continued: 

"She  got  so  she  didn't  care  for  Hoboken,  Mary 
didn't.  The  beaus  then  took  her  to  every  theatre 
in  New  York.  And  they  were  a  fine  lot  of  chaps 
— Stevens  students,  .bachelor  professors,  leading 
merchants'  sons — all  the  best  people  in  town.  Be- 
fore that  Stevens  student  started  up  the  necessary 
machinery  to  repair  this  case,  she  had  no  beaus 
at  all ;  but  he  fixed  things  so's  she  had  a  regular 
monopoly  because  she  controlled  the  raw  material. 
They  teach  just  enough  of  political  economy  on 
the  side  up  there  at  the  institute  to  bring  that  in ; 
that  you  can't  have  a  monopoly  unless  you  control 
the  raw  material ;  so  he  figured  to  have  her  control 
it.  But  when  she  lost  it  the  thing  was  off." 

"What  became  of  it?"  asked  Mr.  Tescheron, 
who,  I  am  informed,  was  fearful  that  the  nar- 
rator might  be  interrupted  by  the  ringing  of  the 
bell. 

"She  ate  it  up.  You  see,  Brown,  that  smart 
Stevens  man,  who  laid  out  this  job,  went  around 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       173 

to  where  Mary  kept  her  little  lamb  and  sheared 
it  every  once  so  often.  He  gave  the  wool  to  our 
swellest  tailor  and  had  him  make  it  up  into  an 
extra  fancy  line  of  trousering.  The  best  people 
bought  those  trousers,  and  of  course  everywhere 
that  Mary  went  the  lamb  was  sure  to  go.  You 
can  see  why  she  had  so  much  good  company. 
The  fellows  simply  couldn't  stop  going  to  Mary's 
till  they  shed  'em.  It  took  a  mechanical  engineer 
to  do  it.  But  when  the  lamb  got  old  her  pa,  who 
had  not  been  told  about  this  thing,  thought  he'd 
have  to  eat  the  pet  to  save  its  mutton." 

"But  she  got  married,  of  course,  didn't  she?" 
asked  a  stranger,  who  was  en  route  to  Europe  on 
his  wedding  tour  and  was  full  of  romance. 

"Why,  no.  You  see,  she  was  having  such  fun 
fishing,  she  never  stopped  till  they  stopped  biting 
— that  is,  the  snappy  bass  that  she  liked  to  ketch. 
She  landed  a  lot,  but  just  kept  throwing  back, 
probably  waiting  for  some  whale  in  the  shape  of 
a  Duke  to  land  on  one  of  the  steamers,  but  those 
Dukes  that  pass  through  Hoboken  are  terribly 
long  on  trousers,  and  generally  bring  'em  over  by 
the  trunk-load.  They  all  passed  right  through,  at 
any  rate.  Instead  of  a  whale  coming  along,  the 
next  to  bite  were  a  lot  of  old  skates — a  regular  lot 
of  tramps.  They  had  come  into  the  trousers  sec- 


174      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

ond  hand,  usually  got  for  the  asking,  when  pre- 
paring to  start  into  New  York  for  the  slumming 
season;  but,  of  course,  they  had  to  make  for 
Mary's  house  just  as  soon  as  they  put  'em  on  and 
the  charm  got  to  working.  So  she  has  been 
spending  the  balance  of  her  life  shooing  away 
tramps.  The  chances  are  the  pet  lamb  will  never 
quite  wear  out — excuse  me,  gentlemen,  I  think  I 
hear  the  bdl  ringing." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

GABRIELLE  did  not  find  it  necessary  to 
confide  immediately  in  Hygeia,  who 
cared  for  us  both,  but  as  Jim  progressed 
more  favorably  than  I,  and  was  able  to  sit  up  in 
bed  propped  with  pillows,  he  became  talkative  and 
inclined  to  drop  remarks  that  might  create  sus- 
picion in  the  mind  of  the  nurse.  Unless  Hygeia 
became  her  confidante,  Gabrielle  feared  Jim's  iden- 
tity might  become  known  and  his  whereabouts 
learned  by  the  officers  of  the  law,  who  were  now 
apparently  searching  for  him  on  misleading  clues. 

"You  will  be  my  good  friend,  will  you  not?" 
asked  Gabrielle,  as  she  drew  Hygeia  closely  to  her 
one  morning  about  a  week  after  our  entrance  to 
the  hospital.  "I  want  you  to  help  me,  and  I  know 
you  now  so  well  that  I  feel  I  may  safely  ask  you 
to.  May  I?" 

"My  dear  Miss  Marshall,  there  is  nothing  I  will 
not  do  for  you,  believe  me.  I  rejoice  that  your 
brother  is  showing  such  rapid  improvement.  How 
m 


176      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

much  more  fortunate  he  is  than  the  poor  fellow  in 
the  next  room — his  friend,  I  believe  you  said  ?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Hopkins  is  his  friend.  But  Mr. 
Marshall  is  not  my  brother,  and — " 

"Tut,  tut !  Didn't  I  know  it,  my  dear !  Have 
I  not  watched  you  both?  I  am  already  keeping 
your  secret,  never  fear.  Tell  me  only  what  you 
please,  but  you  need  not  tell  me  to  have  your 
good-will,  for  my  heart  is  with  you,  my  dear." 

"Oh,  you  are  such  a  kind,  good  friend!"  ex- 
claimed Gabrielle.  "It  is  your  sympathy  and  care 
that  will  save  the  lives  of  these  men.  Let  me  tell 
you  why  I  so  promptly  had  him"  (pointing  to 
Jim,  who  was  beyond  hearing),  "registered  as 
George  Marshall,  my  brother.  My  father  accuses 
him  of  many  things — many  foolish  things — but 
you  know  how  it  is  with  an  impetuous  father; 
these  things  have  been  enlarged  in  his  eyes  by 
wicked  men,  who  are  conspiring  for  gain.  De- 
tectives, they  call  themselves,  and  so  long  as  my 
father  hesitates  to  publicly  expose  his  family, 
these  men  feed  upon  his  fears.  I  have  good  rea- 
son to  believe  that  Mr.  Hopkins,  so  long  friendly 
to  him — whose  real  name  is  James  Hosley — is 
now  his  bitter  enemy,  for  he  has  given  informa- 
tion concerning  him  to  the  authorities.  And  my 
real  name  is  Gabrielle  Tescheron,  so  you  see — " 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      177 

"Gracious!  But  this  is  a  conspiracy,"  ex- 
claimed Hygeia,  deeply  interested  and  ready  to 
declare  her  loyalty  to  the  lovers.  "How  can  you 
account  for  the  base  treachery  of  that  man?" 
(pointing  toward  my  room,  the  quarters  of  the 
despicable  villain  in  the  case.)  "What  a  miser- 
able wretch  he  must  be!" 

"But,  my  dear,"  said  Gabrielle,  who  now  felt 
that  she  was  established  on  a  firm  footing  of  in- 
timacy with  the  nurse,  "I  am  not  positive  as  to 
that,  although  I  have  good  reason  to  believe  he 
has  deserted  his  old  chum ;  still  I  am  not  sure,  for 
I  have  only  heard  so  through  my  father,  who  is, 
of  course,  strongly  prejudiced.  There  are  many 
things  I  do  not  understand.  I  do  know  that  a 
subpoena  has  been  issued  for  my  father  on  the 
complaint  of  Mr.  Hopkins,  and  so,  of  course,  he 
must  have  informed  the  officials  concerning  Mr. 
Hosley,  probably  accusing  him  directly  as  alleged 
by  the  detectives  and  outlined  to  me  hastily  by 
my  father.  Had  Mr.  Hopkins  not  done  this 
we  would  not  have  been  hurried  out  of  the 
State  to  escape  the  unpleasant  publicity  of 
which  my  father  has  a  horror.  Oh,  father  is 
such  a  hot-head!" 

"Your  love  is  all  you  base  your  loyalty  on," 
smiled  Hygeia,  and  embracing  Gabrielle,  she 


178      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

kissed  her  desperately.  "Indeed,  no  harm  shall 
visit  either  of  you,"  Hygeia  tenderly  assured 
Gabrielle. 

"But  to  me  this  situation  is  very  silly,"  added 
Gabrielle.  "And  were  it  not  for  my  hasty  father 
and  this  fire  intervening,  I  know  full  well  that  Mr. 
Hopkins  would  have  made  an  explanation  which 
would  have  exonerated  Jim.  I  feel  so,  but  I  shall 
take  no  risks — no  risks  whatever,  mind  you. 
While  I  do  feel  that  perfidy  in  Mr.  Hopkins  is 
beyond  belief,  I  shall  be  cautious,  and  with  your 
help  shall  keep  him  in  ignorance  of  Mr.  Hosley's 
whereabouts.  If  he  did  tell  a  lie  to  my  father 
about  notifying  the  officials,  then  let  him  come 
forward  with  the  denial.  But  we  must  not  be  too 
hard  on  the  poor  fellow;  think  how  much  more 
he  has  suffered  than  Jim.  Let  us  divide  the  beau- 
tiful flowers.  Half  the  time  let  poor  Benny  Hop- 
kins gaze  on  these  roses  and  orchids  I  send  to 
Jim,  and  tell  him,  too,  my  dear,  that  they  come 
from  me.  Let  us  hear  what  he  says.  Perhaps 
some  day  all  will  be  clear  to  us  again.  Jim  and 
Ben  will  again  be  friends,  and  you  will  be  our 
new-found  friend,  whom  we  shall  all  rejoice  in 
finding  in  our  hour  of  need.  How  beautiful  it 
will  be  then,  and  these  days  of  sorrow  will  be 
turned  into  pleasant  memories!  Poor  Mr.  Hop- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       179 

kins,  he  does  seem  so  low  at  times !  Do  you  think 
he  will  get  well  ?" 

"I  think  he  will,"  assured  Hygeia,  "Each  day 
he  rests  a  little  better,  but  his  head  is  not  clear. 
He  wanders  a  good  deal.  But  Dr.  Hanley  says 
that  condition  will  improve — in  fact,  it  shows 
signs  of  improvement  as  his  temperature  becomes 
more  even." 

"I  do  pray  he  will  recover,"  said  Gabrielle, 
sadly,  shaking  her  head.  "Jim  has  such  faith  in 
him — laughs  at  my  fears  and  bids  me  let  him 
be  wheeled  into  Ben's  room  as  soon  as  the  doc- 
tors will  allow  us  to  go  in  there,  for  he  knows 
he  can  cheer  him.  Jim  says  Ben  is  so  given  to 
sarcasm  and  joking  that  people  who  do  not  know 
him  well  misunderstand  him.  I  shall  not  allow 
it,  however,  as  there  is  too  much  at  risk.  Jim 
does  not  know  all.  If  I  am  wrong  in  this,  Ben 
Hopkins  is  responsible,  for  he  deceived  my  father 
and  drove  us  all  over  there  to  Hoboken.  What 
a  place  for  an  exile !  Jim  laughs  every  time  I  tell 
him  about  it.  Oh,  such  a  state  of  affairs,  just  as 
we  had  planned  to  be  married !" 

"Isn't  it  too  bad !"  exclaimed  Hygeia.  "Never 
mind;  we  shall  all  laugh  over  it  at  the  wedding, 
if  I  may  be  there." 

"When  everything  comes  out  all  right  in  our 


180      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

affairs,  indeed  you  shall  be  there.  You  shall  be 
my  bridesmaid;  Nellie  Gibson  is  to  be  my  maid 
of  honor,  and  Benny  Hopkins,  Jim's  best  man. 
Won't  it  be  grand!  Let  me  tell  you  about  my 
gowns.  I  have  nearly  all  of  them  ready.  First 
there  is  the — " 

Here  I  shall  leave  them  to  talk  of  the  trous- 
seau. My  notes  on  this  branch  of  the  subject 
were  gathered  from  Hygeia  and  are  full  enough 
to  give  an  adequate  description.  This  I  would  do, 
but  I  am  afraid  I  would  get  tangled  in  the  trail, 
scalp  the  bride  by  tearing  off  her  veil  with  a  fly- 
ing heel,  and  fall  down  on  some  of  the  fine  lace 
flouncing  around  the  box  pleats  hiding  the  chiffon 
and  the  crepe  de  chine.  Hygeia  told  me  the  style 
of  the  wedding  gown  was  Princess,  but  there  was 
a  reception  gown — I  was  told,  but  I  forget  now 
how  many  yards  it  contained;  if  the  8,643  tucks 
were  taken  out  and  the  goods  stretched,  I  under- 
stood there  was  enough  to  show  that  a  silk  mill 
and  lace  factory  had  been  busy  several  days.  As 
for  the  silkworms,  I  suppose  they  were  all  sum- 
mer chewing  up  a  row  of  mulberry  bushes  on  this 
job.  Weddings  make  a  lot  of  work  for  every- 
body. 

Hygeia  did  everything  possible  to  make  it 
pleasant  for  Gabrielle  at  the  hospital.  She  tact- 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      181 

fully  left  the  sick  man  alone  with  his  "sister"  ttie 
greater  part  of  every  afternoon.  With  sorrow 
to  knit  more  firmly  the  bonds  of  love,  it  would 
appear  that  no  disturbing-  influence  could  enter 
there.  They  chatted  quietly  and  laughed  merrily, 
and  when  they  were  not  doing  either  they  were 
silently  telling  each  other  of  their  happiness  by 
those  glances  that  had  partially  betrayed  their 
secret  to  Hygeia  before  she  learned  it  from  Ga- 
brielle's  lips. 

Gabrielle  became  such  a  motherly  person  at  the 
hospital!  With  a  dainty  white  dotted  Swiss 
apron  tied  in  sprightly  bows  about  her  waist,  "in 
sweet  perfection  cast,"  she  sat  near  the  window 
sewing  or  embroidering  some  bit  of  finery  that 
must  be  finished  for  the  wedding,  and  by  her 
hands  alone.  Jim  was  so  full  of  joy  he  didn't 
care  how  long  it  took  his  broken  leg  to  mend. 
The  aches  and  twinges  from  that  quarter  were 
Hardly  felt  by  him  after  the  first  day  of  his  con- 
finement; his  head  was  right,  and  he  was  eager 
for  the  daily  coming  of  Gabrielle. 

Well  do  I  comprehend  how  Jim  felt.  He  did 
not  yearn  with  sickening  hope  deferred,  for  he 
had  won  the  heart  of  the  girl.  Contentedly  he 
rested  in  the  sunshine  of  her  smiles,  and  fell  asleep 
beneath  the  shadow  of  her  tresses,  her  small,  cool 


182       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

hand  on  his  fevered  brow,  her  low  words  of  sym- 
pathy lulling  him  to  the  land  of  rest  and  sweet 
dreams  of  her.  I  realize  how  it  was  with  them, 
because  it  was  so  different  with  me.  The  chill 
of  loneliness  cast  by  suspicion  compelled  my 
silence  on  the  things  I  was  bursting  to  tell  to 
sympathetic  ears.  My  only  visitor  was  the  cheer- 
ful nurse,  but  she  was  a  stranger  to  my  woes,  I 
thought,  and  could  not  help  me. 

Jim  frequently  asked  Gabrielle  concerning  me. 
When  he  had  been  there  three  weeks,  he  mani- 
fested an  unusual  anxiety,  for  none  of  his  in- 
quiries had  received  satisfactory  replies.  Hygeia 
reported  that  I  was  slowly  gaining — but  very,  very 
slowly,  and  could  not  be  disturbed,  not  even  by 
my  brother  who  had  called.  None  of  Jim's  folks 
had  been  down  from  the  North  to  see  him,  as  he 
had  written  them  with  his  own  hand  that  he 
would  soon  be  out  again.  This  made  it  clear  to 
them  that  he  was  safe. 

"Gabrielle,  I  must  see  Ben  the  minute  the  doc- 
tors say  he  is  well  enough,"  declared  Jim.  "Why, 
it  is  nonsense  to  suspect  him.  That  fellow  is  my 
best  friend ;  never  mind  what  you  think,  you  will 
find  him  loyal  to  me.  I  must  see  him.  What 
will  he  think  of  me?" 

"You  are  not  well  enough  to  manage  your 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       183 

own  affairs,  Jim;  believe  me,  you  are  not.  I 
want  you  to  give  over  everything  into  my 
hands  and  let  me  be  your  guide.  Please  do 
as  I  say." 

She  had  early  outlined  to  him  the  grounds  for 
her  father's  suspicions,  but  said  nothing  concern- 
ing the  Browning  case.  She  emphasized  my  ac- 
tion which  had  frightened  her  father,  but  did  not 
go  into  details,  for  Jim  was  too  weak  to  stand 
the  mental  strain  she  feared  might  be  imposed  on 
him  if  he  were  to  enter  into  a  discussion  of  the 
matters  her  father  had  told  her  were  conclusive 
evidence  that  Jim  was  a  notorious  criminal.  It 
was  all  too  ridiculous  for  her  to  believe.  Her 
father  laid  great  stress  on  the  fact  that  Hosley 
had  left  for  parts  unknown,  fearing  to  face  his 
accusers,  as  corroborative  of  the  other  evidence 
supplied  by  the  detectives,  including  his  long 
criminal  record  and  photographs  from  the  Rogues' 
Gallery.  This  made  it  seem  all  the  more  ridicu- 
lous. Not  a  suspicion  concerning  Jim  had  ever 
entered  her  mind.  Her  knowledge  of  her  father's 
obstinacy,  and  the  evil  influences  surrounding 
him,  were  all  the  protection  Jim  needed.  His 
enemies  counted  for  him. 

"Well,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  do  as  you  say, 
Gabrielle,"  said  Jim,  "but  Ben  is  a  good  friend 


184       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

of  mine,  and  it  may  hurt  him  to  find  I  am  neglect- 
ing him." 

"That  will  come  out  all  right,  Jim.  If  he  is  a 
friend  we  shall  probably  learn  of  it  as  soon  as  he 
regains  control  of  himself.  He  may  say  some- 
thing about  you  to  the  nurse.  If  he  is  friendly 
I  will  talk  with  him  first,  and  then  we  shall  learn 
just  where  he  stands  in  this  matter.  Perhaps 
when  we  hear  what  he  says  we  shall  be  glad  we 
kept  him  in  ignorance  of  you." 

That  day  when  my  head  appeared  to  be  per- 
fectly clear  for  the  first  time,  and  I  began  to  ask 
questions,  Hygeia  hurried  into  the  next  room 
and  breathlessly  announced: 

"Miss  Tescheron,  Mr.  Hopkins  has  begun  to 
ask  questions  at  last.  The  first  thing  he  asked 
almost  was :  'Where  is  Hosley  ?  Is  he  in  jail  ? 
Hasn't  he  been  here  to  see  me?  Was  he  hurt? 
Was  he  killed?  Hasn't  he  written  to  me?'  and 
I  asked  him  why  he  should  ask  me.  He  also 
wanted  to  know  who  sent  the  flowers,  and  I  told 
him,  but  he  made  no  answer.  He  didn't  seem  to 
think  it  possible  Miss  Tescheron  should  send 
flowers  to  him.  What  do  you  make  of  it?  I 
think  he  is  perfectly  friendly,  don't  you?  He 
wants  to  know  so  much  about  Mr.  Hosley." 

"Certainly   he's  friendly;  let   me   be  wheeled 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       185 

right  in  to  see  him.  Oh,  please ;  just  for  a  min- 
ute," begged  Jim,  who  was  now  sitting  up  with 
his  leg  stretched  out  on  a  pillow. 

"Why  should  he  ask  if  you  are  in  jail?  I  don't 
like  that  at  all;  not  at  all.  I  will  not  consent 
He  has  not  forgotten  his  treachery.  I  will  not 
trust  the  fellow.  Let  us  wait  until  he  talks  a 
little  more."  And  so  Gabrielle's  caution  inter- 
vened. 

;  But  I  didn't  ask  any  more  questions  about 
Hosley. 


'CHAPTER  XIV 

CIRCUMSTANCES  usually  arise  along  the 
path  of  folly  to  make  it  increasingly  ex- 
pensive. Emil  Stuffer  appeared  to  sup- 
ply one  important  item.  He  had  been  attracted 
to  Stevens  Institute  by  the  associations  of  his 
home.  The  students  from  this  great  school  gath- 
ered around  his  father's  hospitable  fire  and  rested 
their  brains  when  weary  with  the  curves  of  ana- 
lytical geometry  and  the  stupid  exactness  of  the 
differential  calculus.  Emil  was  clever  at  his  pro- 
fession— that  of  mechanical  engineer — and  for 
five  years  after  his  graduation  from  the  Insti- 
tute had  devoted  himself  to  that  career.  Then 
his  father  needed  his  assistance  in  running  the 
hotel,  for  in  his  older  years  A.  Stuffer  found  it 
difficult  to  move  with  alacrity,  and  unless  more 
speed  could  be  introduced  in  the  management  he 
saw  that  it  might  appear  in  the  departure  of  the 
guests.  Emil,  therefore,  had  come  home  to  fall 
heir  in  due  time  to  the  business,  and  prior  to  the 

186 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN       187 

ceremonies  attending  that  event,  he  was  to  be  his 
father's  lieutenant,  practicing  his  avocation  as  an 
ornithologist,  whose  specialty  was  rare  birds,  at 
leisure  moments.  Emil  enjoyed  also  the  work  of 
the  taxidermist,  and  loved  dearly  to  cut  and  stuff. 
Jerry,  the  wonderful  cat  of  the  glass  case  in  the 
office,  gave  only  a  hint  of  his  skill  and  the  remark- 
able perfection  he  achieved  in  improving  the  de- 
signs of  nature.  Under  Emil's  mechanical  touch 
Jerry  became  far  more  interesting  and  a  better 
advertisement  for  the  business,  when  connected 
with  his  father's  yarn  regarding  him  as  an  electric 
phenomenon,  than  he  had  ever  been  during  the 
days  of  his  active  existence  on  earth. 

Mrs.  Tescheron  particularly  admired  the  many 
specimens  of  birds  shown  in  nearly  every  room 
in  the  house,  and  even  Gabrielle  found  them  in- 
teresting. Mr.  Tescheron,  who  was  something 
of  an  expert  on  fish,  and  had  written  a  number 
of  articles  on  rare  specimens  in  the  line  of  his 
specialty  for  the  Fish  Journal,  was  glad  to  take 
up  the  subject  of  rare  birds  and  pursue  it  with 
similar  interest.  Birds  and  fish  are  allied  in  the 
student  mind.  Under  the  tutorship  of  Emil,  he 
drank  from  the  Hoboken  source  of  bird  wisdom. 
If  Emil  by  some  stroke  of  Fate  had  been  thrown 
into  Fulton  Market  for  six  weeks  he  might  have 


188      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

become  a  student  of  fish,  and  Mr.  Tescheron  the 
enthusiastic  teacher.  If  any  stranger  from  the 
briny  deep  was  hauled  aboard  a  fishing  smack  and 
brought  to  our  city,  Mr.  Tescheron  was  the  expert 
who  told  the  newspapers  all  about  it.  He  told 
a  straight,  scientific  story  in  popular  language, 
and  until  it  had  been  rewritten  by  local  fish  editors 
and  some  twenty  times  more  by  as  many  other 
piscatorial  experts,  it  was  hardly  cured  to  a  point 
where  it  would  pass  in  the  domain  of  post-pran- 
dial fact.  A  very  large  whale  was  once  brought 
into  the  market  and  placed  on  exhibition  at  an 
admission  fee  of  one  dime.  The  story  of  this 
whale,  as  interpreted  by  Mr.  Tescheron,  appeared 
throughout  the  country  for  many  weeks  after- 
ward. A  Western  version  of  the  New  York  in- 
terview, as  it  appeared  in  some  stereotyped  plate 
matter  of  a  Western  news  association,  I  give  here 
verbatim,  to  show  how  truth  may  be  improved : 


JONAH'S  WHALE  APARTMENT. 


New  York  Fish  Expert  Proves  the 
Bible  Story  True. 

The  Higher  Criticism  of  the  Market. 


Nothing  at  all  strange  that  a  man  should  be  very 
comfortable  inside  the  roomy  mammal  with 
plenty  of  light  and  air  and  good  wholesome 
food— Structure  shows  it  was  built  for  the 
purpose. 


Albert  Tescheron,  the  celebrated  Fulton 
Market  expert  on  rare  fish,  who  is  thor- 
oughly familiar  with  the  anatomy  of  whales, 
consented  to  give  his  opinion  concerning 
Jonah  this  morning  to  the  reporter  of  the 
Sporting  Extra. 

"Mr.  Tescheron,  please  tell  me,"  said  the 
reporter,  "in  just  what  part  of  the  whale 
Jonah  lived  for  three  days.  My  paper  wants 
the  true  story,  with  such  Biblical  data  as 
may  bear  upon  it,  interpreted  by  the  higher 
criticism  of  the  Fish  Market.  I  want  to 
get  an  interior  view  of  the  apartments  he 
lived  In  by  flashlight  or  the  X-ray,  so  as 
to  print  the  Jonah  story  right  up  to  date. 
There  were  none  of  our  men  present,  you 
understand,  when  the  thing  happened." 

"The  belly  of  the  whale  is  commodious, 
as  you  may  see,"  replied  Mr.  Tescheron, 
pointing  to  the  spot  with  his  cane.  "Here 
we  have  the  probable  position  of  Jonah, 
seated  with  a  knee  against  each  ear  and  his 
hands  clasped  over  his  ankles.  Now  this 
episode  as  narrated  plainly  tells  us  that  Jo- 
nah was  'swallowed  up;'  he  wasn't  chewed 
up,  but  swallowed  whole,  and  from  such 
Investigations  as  I  have  made,  studying 
whales  before  and  after  meals,  and  from 
what  I  know  of  the  layout  of  the  Interior 
occupied  by  Jonah,  he  sat,  as  I  say,  a 
solid  chunk  of  a  man  which  no  whale  could 
digest.  Now  you  know  the  whale  is  a  regu- 
lar submarine  vessel  equipped  the  same  as 
those  divers  of  our  navy,  with  a  perfect 
outfit  of  air  valves.  You  must  remember 
reading  that  this  fish  was  prepared  for  the 
special  business  of  swallowing  Jonah,  and 
for  no  other  purpose.  The  whale  comes  up 


190      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

at  regular  intervals  and  blows  the  -water 
out  of  his  air-tight  compartments  and  sucks 
in  a  fresh  air  supply — enough  to  last  him 
and  two  or  three  more  passengers,  so  that 
Jonah,  it  may  be  seen,  had  no  trouble  at 
all  to  breathe,  and  agreed  with  the  whale 
until  the  whale  was  beached,  while  asleep, 
at  low  water.  The  lack  of  all  rolling  motion 
in  the  land,  and  the  fact  that  an  uneven 
keel  made  Jonah  claw  around  more  than 
usual,  made  the  whale  land-sick.  A  whale 
can  throw  a  stream  from  its  snout  for  about 
five  rods,  but  when  it  strikes  land  that  way 
under  heavy  ballast  it  chucks  all  its  load, 
water  and  solids,  like  a  torpedo  hitting  a 
ship.  I  have  experimented  with  small 
•whales — say  from  ten  to  twenty  feet  over 
all,  and  never  knew  one  to  miss  when  he 
bumped  land.  The  whale  was  prepared  es- 
pecially to  do  that — to  release  Jonah,  and 
does  it  with  wonderful  automatic  economy 
— the  same  that  we  scientific  men  note 
throughout  nature.  If  the  people  who  laugh 
at  this  story  of  Jonah  would  watch  whales 
a  little  closer,  especially  at  low  tide,  when 
stranded  and  taking  a  nap,  they  would  be 
surprised  to  find  how  the  whale  wakes  up 
and  heaves  ballast. 

"Jtist  see  the  inside  arrangements  here," 
and  Mr.  Tescheron  outlined  on  the  surface 
of  the  dead  monster  the  exterior  elevation 
of  Jonah's  home.  "Just  behind  this  outer 
covering  is  a  splendid  living-room,  6  feet  by 
4,  lighted  by  the  phosphorescent  glow  of  the 
interior  walls.  A  whale  is  full  of  phos- 
phorus. The  ceiling  is  a  little  low,  but  the 
ventilation  is  perfect,  without  draughts,  and 
the  temperature  is  about  what  you  would 
find  in  Florida  in  January.  The  humidity  is 
a  little  heavy,  so  that  when  the  whale  runs 
too  far  North  he  may  chill  inside  and  steam 
like  a  London  fog  or  a  Russian  bath,  but 
when  Jonah  entered  and  stayed  for  three 
days  it  was  warm  weather,  and  he  was  able 
to  see  plainly  and  be  quite  comfortable, 
although  you  may  remember  he  referred  to 
the  place  in  strong  terms  when  he  was 
praying  to  get  out.  The  two  rooms  ad- 
joining the  living-room  are  also  cosy,  you 
see — hot-water  heating  system  and  all — 
open  plumbing.  How  far  did  the  whale 
throw  Jonah?  About  a  hundred  feet,  I 
should  say,  and  this  lightened  his  ballast 
so  that  he  floated  again  and  was  able  to 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       191 

reverse  his  tail  motion  and  back  off  into 
deep  water." 

Through  the  courtesy  of  Mr.  Tescheron 
the  reporter  was  able  to  arrange  with  the 
whale  owners  to  have  it  opened  and  the 
artists  of  the  Sporting  Extra  peeked  in, 
and  viewed  the  three-room-and-bath  apart- 
ment arranged  in  a  kind  of  ham-shaped 
building  with  accordeon  sides.  The  art- 
ist's recollection  of  the  plan  is  as  fol- 
lows:* 

We  regret  that  space  will  not  permit  us 
to  present  the  picture  taken  by  our  im- 
aginative artist  showing  Jonah  in  his  dis- 
guise as  a  prophet,  reading  one  of  his  own 
sermons  at  a  phosphorescent  chandelier. 
But  the  following  picture,*  indicating  the 
camera-like  arrangement  of  the  whale's  Jo- 
nah suite  in  the  dry-land  collapse,  with 
Jonah  seated  on  a  wad  of  compressed  air 
shooting  upstairs  and  through  the  vestibule, 
presents  the  Tescheron  theory  with  greater 
vividness. 

Emil  Staffer's  father  was  very  proud  of  his 
accomplished  son.  "That  boy  of  mine,"  he  used 
to  say  to  Mr.  Tescheron,  "thinks  nothing  of 
starting  out  any  time,  day  or  night,  for  a  rare 
bird.  He'll  just  leave  a  note  here  saying  he's 
started,  and  like  as  not  the  next  time  I  hear  from 
him  he's  caught  a  new  kind  of  sand-piper,  a  god- 
wit  or  killyloo  bird  in  a  Florida  swamp,  or  one 
of  them  glossy  ibises  he  hankers  so  for.  That 
extra  pale  bubo  up  there  (pointing  to  a  case  above 
the  office  desk),  he  picked  up  in  Northeast  Labra- 
dor." 

Mr.  Tescheron  was  greatly  impressed  with  all 
this.  He  liked  Emil,  the  student,  and  found 

*  Thaoootds  were  too  blurred  to  reproduce. 


192       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

much  in  common  with  him.  He  questioned  Emil 
frequently,  and  was  always  glad  to  hear  that  en- 
thusiast talk  on  his  hobby. 

When  Mr.  Tescheron's  enthusiasm  had  at- 
tained the  proper  pitch,  he  was  admitted  by  Emil 
to  view  his  private  collection  of  the  Rare  Birds  of 
Eastern  North  America,  attractively  displayed  in 
glass  cases  around  three  attic  rooms.  Collectors 
from  far  and  near  had  seen  this  collection  and  had 
praised  it  in  letters  which  Emil  showed  in  an  off- 
hand way  to  the  eager  fish  expert.  One  of  these 
letters  contained  an  offer  of  $15,000  for  the  col- 
lection. 

"I  wouldn't  take  $25,000  for  that  lot  of  birds," 
said  Emil  to  the  amazed  Tescheron  at  the  first 
interview. 

"Do  you  suppose  you'll  ever  get  that  much?" 
asked  the  unbelieving  guest,  making  full  allow- 
ance for  the  high  opinion  a  collector  has  of  his 
own  wares.  "Who'd  give  it?" 

"Any  museum  that  wants  the  finest  collection 
of  Rare  Birds  of  Eastern  North  America  will  give 
it  readily.  A  friend  of  mine  who  has  been  col- 
lecting postage  stamps,  values  his  collection  at 
that,  and  he  hasn't  begun  to  put  the  time  and 
money  into  it  I  have  put  in  this  work.  Here  are 
over  one  hundred  of  the  rarest  birds  to  be  found 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       193 

from  Florida  to  Labrador — any  bird  expert  can 
tell  that." 

Mr.  Tescheron  became  deeply  interested.  He 
consulted  his  friend  Smith,  the  great  detective, 
who  recommended  a  bird  expert  lie  knew  to  ap- 
praise the  collection  and  get  a  price  from  its  fond 
owner.  For  a  consideration  of  fifty  dollars,  the 
bird  expert  spent  an  hour  in  Hoboken  viewing 
the  Emil  Stuffer  collection  without  letting  it  be 
known  whom  he  represented.  At  least  that  was 
the  agreement  he  made  with  Mr.  Tescheron.  He 
reported  that  the  collection  would  be  a  bargain  at 
five  thousand  dollars,  and  he  believed  it  might  be 
bought  for  that,  as  he  understood  Mr.  Stuffer  was 
in  need  of  money  and  was  beginning  to  hint  he 
might  sacrifice  it  among  people  in  the  trade;  but 
of  course  he  gave  no  sign  of  anxiety  to  possible 
purchasers. 

A  man  makes  his  pile  in  the  fish  business,  but 
it  is  not  monumental ;  it  will  not  live  after  him  in 
memorial  grandeur,  and  the  business  itself  is  far 
from  imposing — the  phosphate  of  ammonia  and 
its  volatile  allies  passing  even  from  the  recollec- 
tion of  reminiscent  contemporaries.  The  people 
with  rare  collections  to  sell  work  among  that  class 
of  trade  represented  by  Tescheron,  a  man  with 
money  seeking  to  benefit  mankind  in  some  way 


194      CUPID'SMIDDLEMAN 

that  will  insure  the  perpetuation  of  his  name 
carved  in  stone  or  cast  in  bronze,  with  the  cost  of 
maintenance  shouldered  by  contract  on  the  imper- 
sonal taxpayer,  for  whom  glory  pro  rata  is  re- 
served to  be  enjoyed  by  reflection  from  the  mon- 
umented  name  of  the  philanthropist.  Thus  the 
good  a  taxpayer  does  is  interred  with  his  bones, 
if  he  has  been  careful  to  pay  up  and  not  be  sold 
out  beforehand  for  arrears.  But  the  good  the 
philanthropist  does  is  resolved  into  fame  founded 
on  one  of  the  surest  things  known — taxes. 

It  is  not  ethical  for  a  man  engaged  in  supplying 
rare  collections  to  advertise,  but  like  the  most 
fashionable  jewelers,  whose  correspondence  with 
ladies  is  in  copper-plate  long-hand,  penned  on  deli- 
cate note-paper,  by  a  clerical  force  of  slender-fin- 
gered young  gentlemen — refined,  polite,  indirect 
and  apparently  disinterested  appeals  must  be  made. 
Emil  Stuffer  comprehended  the  art  of  the  sales 
department. 

Some  day  I  hope  to  get  enough  out  of  the  pub- 
lic to  give  a  set  of  my  writings  on  political  econ- 
omy to  every  town  that  will  firmly  bind  itself,  as 
the  party  of  the  second  part,  to  keep  them  dusted. 

The  town  authorities  of  Stukeville,  N.  Y.,  a 
village  of  three  thousand  inhabitants,  were  al- 
ready the  proud  possessors  of  the  Tescheron  col- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       195 

lection  of  rare  fish,  comprising  some  three  hun- 
dred prepared  specimens,  displayed  in  rooms  set 
apart  in  the  library  building.  They  were  glad  to 
furnish  the  additional  rooms  needed  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  the  celebrated  Stuffer  Collection 
of  the  Rare  Birds  of  Eastern  North  America,  and 
also  to  provide,  according  to  the  deed  of  gift :  "for 
the  proper  maintenance  of  the  same,  with  the  un- 
derstanding that  the  gift  is  absolute  to  the  citizens 
of  Stukeville  without  further  conditions  or  reser- 
vations, whatsoever,"  etc. 

The  dealer,  acting  as  Mr.  Tescheron's  agent, 
secretly,  made  the  purchase  about  a  week  before 
the  Tescheron  family  departed,  and  the  outfit  was 
shipped  to  Stukeville,  where  it  was  set  up  by  Miss 
Griggs,  the  librarian  (who  kept  two  canaries  and 
understood  birds),  assisted  by  three  men,  who 
did  the  carting.  There  it  stands  to-day,  a  monu- 
ment to  the  benefactor  of  Stukeville.  The  smile 
on  the  elongated  face  of  the  pelican,  who  is 
scratching  his  left  ear  with  a  broad  web  flipper,  re- 
flects in  mummied  perpetuity  the  gratitude  hidden 
behind  the  quiet  exterior  of  the  studious  Emil 
Stuffer,  ornithologist  and  mechanical  engineer — 
but  principally  the  latter,  when  he  received  word 
from  the  expert  that  the  sale  had  been  made. 

In  Hoboken  they  now  tell  of  the  sale  of  this  col- 


196      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

lection  as  a  joke,  but  in  Stukeville  it  is  a  serious 
matter.  Up  there  it  is  in  the  domain  of  natural 
history. 

Afterward,  when  I  started  out  to  visit  the  places 
involved  in  the  wages  of  my  unlucky  interference, 
I  ran  up  to  Stukeville  and  looked  over  the  birds. 
I  could  see  that  a  stretched  neck  or  lengthened  legs 
and  fancy  tail  feathers,  with  a  few  minor  altera- 
tions in  the  bill  and  wings,  were  all  that  was  neces- 
sary to  make  a  rare  wild  bird  out  of  a  tame  duck. 
Hoboken-built  birds  seemed  to  answer  every  pur- 
pose, however,  in  Stukeville. 

When  it  was  all  over  except  spending  the 
money,  A.  Stuffer  used  to  ask  his  scholarly  son : 

"Say,  Emil,  which  was  the  hardest  to  make — 
Jerry,  or  one  of  them  Stukeville  pets  ?" 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  MAN  who  writes  his  friend's  love-letters 
is  twice  a  fool  if  he  admires  his  work. 
Burns,  Byron,  Morris  and  the  others  who 
contributed  toward  these  high  crimes  and  misde- 
meanors were  dead,  and  so  escaped  the  wrath  of 
the  angry  gods,  who  switch  triflers  in  Love's  do- 
main. I  got  all  the  punishment  due  for  the  guilt 
of  writing  the  compositions,  and  piled  on  top  of 
that  came  another  turn  on  the  hard  road  of  the 
transgressor  for  issuing  them  again.  I  did  not 
intend  to  put  them  into  general  circulation,  of 
course ;  but  my  carelessness  in  leaving  one  of  the 
letters  in  the  sun  parlor  really  amounted  to  the 
same  thing.  The  fellow  who  carelessly  hits  a  can 
of  dynamite  with  an  axe  gets  the  same  perfect 
results  as  if  he  had  planned  to  do  it  for  several 
months.  The  worst,  however,  was  the  swelling 
pride  which  led  to  the  discussion  of  the  letters  with 
Hygeia.  It  snatched  her  forcibly  from  my  life 
at  a  time  when  sustaining  hope  was  most  needed. 
The  hypnotizing  poets  were  to  blame.  As  I  read 

197 


198      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

the  letters,  I  got  the  notion  that  I  was  responsible 
for  the  inspired  as  well  as  the  uninspired  portions, 
and  so  became  topheavy  and  foolhardy  in  hand- 
ling a  kind  of  fire  I  did  not  understand.  Many 
another  has  been  burned  the  same  way. 

Before  letters  of  this  character  are  passed  out 
for  general  reading,  it  must  be  understood  that 
the  audience  shall  not  include  the  man  who  sent 
them  to  a  woman  he  afterwards  killed,  for  the 
simple  purpose  of  marrying  an  accomplished  lady 
of  means,  who  is  also  a  listener  with  him  at  the 
recital.  It  is  one  of  the  rules  in  reading  aloud 
second-hand  love-letters,  never  to  have  these  con- 
ditions present,  for  they  are  apt  to  induce  distress 
in  both  parties.  Had  I  been  consulted  with  full 
details  presented  for  my  consideration,  I  know  I 
should  have  advised  against  it. 

Gabrielle  and  Jim  listened  to  the  reading  of  the 
letter  left  in  the  sun  parlor.  It  seemed  to  be  pub- 
lic property,  as  there  was  no  name  attached  to  it, 
and  so  it  went  the  rounds  of  the  hospital.  Hygeia 
had  intended  to  read  it  for  my  entertainment  first, 
but  before  doing  so  she  chanced  to  read  it  in  the 
next  room ;  perhaps  because  she  thought  the  audi- 
ence would  know  more  than  I  did  of  such  mat- 
ters, and  would  be  more  appreciative.  In  this 
she  was  not  mistaken.  Jim's  interest  was  there 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN       199 

m  cold  shivers,  which  made  the  springs  hum  and 
the  slat  gables  whistle.  Gabrielle  laughed  and 
giggled  like  a  schoolgirl. 

"It's  the  funniest  letter  you  ever  heard,"  de- 
clared Hygeia,  who  seemed  to  lose  sight  of  its 
serious  character.  "I  am  sure  you  will  both  think 
it  so." 

"If  it's  a  love-letter,  ought  we  to  trifle  with  it?" 
asked  Gabrielle.  "The  man  or  woman  to  whom 
it  belongs  might  not  regard  it  as, a  joke." 

"There  are  no  names  on  it,  and  it  will  never  be 
claimed  now,"  said  Hygeia,  hesitatingly. 

"Read  it,  by  all  means,  then,  to  cheer  us,"  said 
Gabrielle. 

Hygeia  proceeded  to  read  this  collaboration  of 
R.  Burns  and  B.  Hopkins : 

"  'My  Darling  Margaret :  During  your  visits 
to  the  country  your  letters  cheer  me  as  I  fondly 
dwell  upon  the  sweet  suggestive  thought  that  you 
are  ever  thinking  of  me,  as  I  am  thinking  of  you, 
every  waking  and  dreaming  moment.  I  fade  away 
into  dreamland,  hand  in  hand  with  you,  and  joy- 
ously together  like  innocent  children  we  walk 
across  the  broad  meadows  and  through  the  woods 
to  some  hidden  bower  by  the  brook;  there  as  I 
look  up  into  your  eyes,  the  pebbly  streamlet  flash- 


200       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

ing  a  glint  of  wayward  sunshine,  the  wooing  song- 
birds and  the  reposeful  harmonies  of  Nature 
soothe  me  like  your  tender  glances  when  they  fall 
upon  me  alone.  Aye,  quite  alone  I  would  have 
them  fall,  to  produce  that  magic  sensation  of  a 
dream's  delight.  Then  when  I  awake  in  the 
morning  and  realize  that  you  are  far,  far  away, 
and  read  your  latest  letter  again  with  pangs  of 
the  bitterest  remorse,  I  dwell  only  upon  those 
passages  which  hint  of  other  joys  quite  apart  from 
your  interest  in  me.  My  desolation  is  that  of  a 
storm-tossed  soul,  seized  by  every  breath  of  fear 
and  tortured  by  every  agony  known  to  the  for- 
saken. Have  you  no  pity  for  me,  Margaret? 
Drive  no  more  shafts  of  anguish  through  my 
bruised  and  shattered  heart,  but  gently  administer 
in  words  of  endearment  the  potency  of  your  en- 
thralling glances. 

"  'Forlorn,  my  love,  no  comfort  near, 
Far,  far  from  thee,  I  wander  here; 
Far,  far  from  thee,  the  fate  severe, 
At  which  I  most  repine,  love. 

"O,  wert  thou,  love,  but  near  me ; 
But  near,  near,  near  me; 
How  kindly  thou  wouldst  cheer  me, 
And  mingle  sighs  with  mine,  love ! 


201 

"Around  me  scowls  a  wintry  sky, 
That  blasts  each  bud  of  hope  and  joy, 
And  shelter,  shade  nor  home  have  I, 
Save  in  those  arms  of  thine,  love/  ' 

"Oh,  my!  How  gnshy!"  exclaimed  Gabrielle, 
as  she  laughed,  and  looked  at  Jim  to  see  if  he  were 
enjoying  it  as  thoroughly. 

"Yes,  but  how  jolly  it  is  to  read,"  said  Hygeia. 
"Listen  to  this : 

"  'There  comes  a  faint  ray  of  sunshine  and  hope 
when  I  read  just  a  word  of  your  possible  home- 
coming in  a  fortnight.  Would  that  I  might  keep 
that  single  thought  in  mind  to  illumine  the  dreary 
prospect !  There  are  times  when  it  blazes  brightly, 
and  with  the  tripping  footsteps  of  joy  I  think  of 
you  as  here  at  my  side.  How  sweet  the  fancy — 

"  'We'll  gently  walk,  and  sweetly  talk, 

Till  the  silent  moon  shine  clearly ; 
I'll  grasp  thy  waist,  and,  fondly  prest, 

Swear  how  I  love  thee  dearly  ; 
Not  vernal  showers  to  budding  flow'rs, 

Not  autumn  to  the  farmer, 
So  dear  can  be  as  thou  to  me, 

My  fair,  my  lovely  charmer !' ' 


202       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"My,  but  wouldn't  it  be  fine  to  have  such  let- 
ters to  treasure!"  laughed  Gabrielle,  teasingly. 
"Jim,  don't  you  think  it  splendid?" 

But  Jim  looked  glum  and  tried  to  dodge  under 
the  quilts. 

"  'It  is  not  every  night  I  can  dream,  believe  me, 
darling/  "  continued  Hygeia,  her  face  in  smiles, 
for  she  felt  that  her  audience  was  now  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  reading.  "  'Many  and  many  a 
night  I  pace  the  floor  of  my  dark  room  or  idly  sit 
by  the  window  gazing  out  at  the  flickering  stars 
and  the  pale  moon  until  they  fade  away  in  the 
dawn,  and  then  I  rush  out  into  the  turmoil  of  the 
unheeding,  jostling  world,  with  nothing  to  live 
for  but  your  return.  On  those  nights  one  soft 
word  from  your  fair  lips  would  summon  me  to 
peaceful  dreams.  Alas !  to  realize  that  you  are  far, 
far  from  me,  and  the  agony  of  the  thought  that 
you  may  never  return  seizes  and  holds  me  fast. 
Then  it  is — 

"  *O,  thou  pale  orb,  that  silent  shines, 

While  care-untroubled  mortals  sleep ! 
Thou  seest  a  wretch  who  inly  pines, 

And  wanders  here  to  wail  and  weep ! 
With  woe  I  nightly  vigils  keep, 

Beneath  thy  wan,  unwarming  beam, 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN       203 

And  mourn  in  lamentation  deep 
How  life  and  love  are  all  a  dream. 


"  'Encircled  in  her  clasping  arms, 

How  have  the  raptured  moments  flown ! 
How  have  I  wished  for  fortune's  charms, 

For  her  dear  sake  and  hers  alone ! 
And  must  I  think  it ! — is  she  gone, 

My  secret  heart's  exulting  boast  ? 
And  does  she  heedless  hear  my  groan  ? 

And  is  she  ever,  ever  lost  ? 

"  'Oh !  can  she  bear  so  base  a  heart, 
So  lost  to  honor,  lost  to  truth, 
As  from  the  fondest  lover  part, 

The  plighted  husband  of  her  youth !'  " 

"Jim,  why  didn't  you  learn  how  to  write 
letters,  so  that  you  could  send  some  to  me 
like  that  ?  Don't  you  think  it  lovely  ?  Please 
don't  stop.  Pardon  my  interruptions,"  said 
Gabrielle. 

"Never  mind  the  interruptions.  Let  us  get  all 
the  fun  out  of  it  we  can,"  replied  Hygeia,  who 
continued  to  read  with  frequent  interruptions  from 
Gabrielle,  but  none  whatever  from  Jim — the  live- 
lier the  comments  and  laughter,  the  greater  he 


204      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

was  inclined  to  silence  and  disappearance  beneath 
the  covers. 

"Jim,  why  don't  you  laugh?"  Gabrielle  would 
say,  turning  to  the  poor  fellow,  who  was  as  meek 
as  any  beggar  could  be.  The  partition  wall  was 
too  thick  for  me  to  hear  what  was  going  on,  al- 
though by  direct  line  I  was  probably  not  two  feet 
away  from  Jim,  for  our  beds  stood  head  to  head. 

The  idea  of  entertaining  Miss  Tescheron  and 
her  ill  companion  in  this  way  was  pleasing  to 
Hygeia.  Of  course,  she  knew  there  was  nothing 
in  those  letters  that  could  make  a  woman  cry,  so 
on  she  read,  and  as  she  proceeded  the  fun  for 
Gabrielle  and  the  interest  from  Jim's  standpoint 
became  intensified.  I  don't  suppose  I  did  any- 
thing except  snore. 

"  'I  have  tried  hard,  my  sweetheart,' "  con- 
tinued Hygeia,  "  'to  find  distraction  by  visiting  the 
places  of  amusement  alone,  but  the  music  of  the 
orchestras  became  jarring  discord  in  my  ears ;  the 
plays,  either  dull,  or  if  interesting  in  plot  with 
lovers  happily  united,  they  but  added  to  my  an- 
guish. There  is  no  escape  for  a  heart  crushed  as 
mine  has  been.  How  I  long  for  the  wilderness ; 
to  be  alone  with  my  sorrow  since  heaven  calling 
for  your  companionship  cannot  be  mine! 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      205 

"  'Had  I  a  cave  on  some  wild  distant  shore, 
Where  the  winds  howl  to  the  waves'  dashing  roar ; 
There  would  I  weep  my  woes, 
There  seek  my  lost  repose, 
Til!  grief  my  eyes  should  close, 
Ne'er  to  wake  more. 

"  'Every  time  you  mention  a  birdie  in  one  of 
your  letters,  Margaret,  I  am  driven  to  desperation. 
Why  have  I  not  the  charms  of  the  woodland 
warblers  to  pierce  with  dulcet  note  the  inmost 
fortresses  of  your  heart  buttressed  to  strong  re- 
sistance against  my  awkward  protestations  of  un- 
dying love?  Nature  has  taught  these  creatures 
of  the  wild  to  woo  with  a  finer  art  Man  is  but 
a  clod — too  sordid  to  rise  on  wings  of  song  into 
that  vast  expanse  of  heaven,  a  woman's  heart. 
Let  me  learn  of  the  birds: 

"  *O,  stay,  sweet  warbling  woodlark,  stay ! 
Nor  quit  for  me  the  trembling  spray; 
A  hapless  lover  courts  thy  lay, 
Thy  soothing,  fond  complaining. 

"  'Again,  again,  that  tender  part, 
That  I  may  catch  thy  melting  art, 
For  surely  that  would  touch  her  heart, 
Wha  kills  me  wi'  disdaining.'  " 


206       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"Why,  how  apt  those  quotations  are  and  how 
full !"  laughed  Gabrielle.  "You  don't  suppose  the 
writer  could  have  been  so  cruel  as  fo  deliberately 
copy  them,  and  yet  he  must  have  done  so,  of 
course.  Just  think  of  it:  some  man  sitting 
there  wildly  in  love,  seeking  counsel  of  the  in- 
spired poets  to  plead  his  cause.  His  great  devo- 
tion leads  him  to  select  the  tenderest  passages; 
only  those  verses  that  speak  the  deep  sentiments 
of  his  flaming  heart  does  he  see,  and  with  them  he 
presents  his  case.  Why,  really,  I  find  that  I  am 
arguing  myself  into  a  friendly  attitude  toward 
this  poor  soul.  Perhaps  it  is  not  right  for  us  to 
laugh  at  that  which  is  so  real  to  this  earnest 
pleader.  Still,  it  is  funny  to  stand  aside  and  see 
two  people  in  love,  isn't  it,  Jim  ?  Really  one  can't 
help  laughing,  and  as  we  don't  know  whose  let- 
ters these  are,  why  shouldn't  we  laugh?  Then 
think  of  the  poor  girl,  up  there  in  the  country, 
writing  long  letters  in  return,  proud  of  her  lover's 
ardor,  yet  shy  in  penning  words  of  devotion. 
Isn't  it  an  attractive  picture,  Jim? — full  of  that 
'soothing,  fond  complaining*  for  them,  and  com- 
edy for  the  rest  of  us?  Go  on,  my  dear,  and  let 
us  hear  more  of  this  poetic  woe;  although  Jim 
doesn't  say  anything,  I  can  see  that  he  is  listen- 
ing. Does  it  make  you  tired,  Jim?" 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      207 

"Oh,  no.  No,  no,  Gabrielle— not  at  all !"  Jim 
managed  to  spruce  up  enough  to  deny  the  intima- 
tion. 

"Then  please  continue,"  urged  Gabrielle. 

Hygeia  was  delighted  to  find  her  entertainment 
so  successful,  and  proceeded,  not  noting,  of  course, 
the  inward  groans  which  spread  through  tHe  quak- 
ing man  in  the  bed.  Jim  could  see  that  unless  a 
great  stroke  of  luck  turned  up  there  would  be  an- 
other fire,  and  he  would  take  a  fall  that  would 
probably  kill  him  next  time. 

It  is  dangerous  to  leave  waste  paper  like  those 
letters  lying  around  close  to  such  highly  inflam- 
mable material. 

Poor  Hygeia !  She  played  with  the  fire  like  a 
child.  What  did  she  know  about  the  rules  of  the 
Board  of  Underwriters!  Neither  had  she  ever 
heard  of  the  Bureau  of  Combustibles! 

It's  a  mighty  lucky  thing  for  my  nerves  that 
I  was  dreaming  an  easier  plot. 

If  Jim  had  been  able  to  reach  over  the  back 
of  his  bed  and  slit  me  with  a  cleaver  into  ro- 
sette ribbons,  one-quarter  inch  wide,  I  believe 
he  would  have  done  it  and  been  proud  of  the 
job. 

Hygeia  continuing,  with  Gabrielle  expectant 
and  Jim  well  muffled,  must  have  presented  a  pic- 


208      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

ture  I  would  give  anything  to  have  preserved  in 
oil  paint. 

"  'How  dearly  I  cherish  the  lock  of  hair  I  stole 
from  you  the  evening  we  parted!  You  are  not 
angry  with  me,  are  you,  Margaret  ?" :  read 
Hygeia. 

"  'Her  hair  is  like  the  curling  mist 

That  climbs  the  mountain  sides  at  e'en, 
When  flow'r-reviving  rains  are  past. 

"  'Really  I  do  not  wonder  at  the  volumes  of 
poetry  that  have  been  written  on  the  beautiful 
tresses  of  the  fair  enshrined  in  lovers'  hearts. 
Sweet  dreams  hover  near  this  soft  remembrance 
and  I  only  regret  that  I  did  not  snip  off  enough  to 
have  a  jeweler  braid  it  for  my  watch-charm  locket. 
Enclosed  please  find  some  of  mine  in  return,' 

"Here  it  is,"  exclaimed  Hygeia,  and  she  pro- 
duced the  small  allotment  of  Jim's,  tied  with  a  cot- 
ton thread  in  the  middle.  Fortunately  the  origi- 
nal quantity  had  dwindled  in  fondling  or  transit, 
so  that  with  an  exhibit  of  only  eighteen  strands, 
as  per  my  inventory,  there  was  not  enough  to  bulk 
and  show  the  same  depth  of  shade  as  the  original 
on  the  neighboring  pillow.  Gabrielle  took  the 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      209 

fragmentary  token  and  held  it  up,  playfully  re- 
marking : 

"Why,  the  dear  fellow  was  a  blond;  almost 
your  color,  Jim,  I  should  imagine;  perhaps  a  little 
lighter.  He  probably  had  eyes  like  yours,  Jimmy. 
Now,  what  a  fortunate  girl  she  was!  Oh,  my! 
Some  men  are  so  tender  and  thoughtful  about 
these  little  matters.  Jim,  you  never  teased  me 
by  stealing  a  lock  of  my  hair,  did  you?  and  so 
of  course  I  never  asked  for  yours.  What  a  slow 
old  chap  you  are !  These  letters  will  teach  you  a 
lesson,  which  I  hope  you  will  heed.  Put  the  lock 
back  with  that  poetry  to  preserve  it,  and  do  let  us 
hear  the  rest  of  it." 

"Listen,  then,"  said  Hygeia,  continuing: 

"  'How  the  fresh  breezes  must  be  painting  their 
ruddy  hues  on  those  cheeks  of  yours,  Margaret, 
for  you  write  me  that  you  are  spending  most  of 
your  time  in  the  open  these  beautiful  days.  How 
I  long  to  be  with  you  and  behold,  for  as  the  poet 
would  sing  of  you— • 

"  'Her  cheeks  are  like  yon  crimson  gem, 
The  pride  of  all  the  flow'ry  scene, 
Just  opening  on  its  thorny  stem. 
*  *  *  * 


210      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"  'Aye,  and  then — 

"  'Her  lips  are  like  yon  cherries  ripe, 

That  sunny  walls  from  Boreas  screen — 
They  tempt  the  taste  and  charm  the  sight ; 
An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  roguish  een.' ' 
*  *  *  * 

At  this  point  I  awoke,  sat  up  in  bed  and  reached 
out  for  the  suspended  electric  button,  which  I 
pushed  for  two  long  rings  and  a  short  one,  my 
private  signal.  I  was  thirsty  for  grape-juice. 
Hygeia  seldom  traveled  beyond  range  of  my  bell. 
As  soon  as  she  heard  it,  she  stopped  reading  and 
asked  to  be  excused  for  a  few  minutes,  until  she 
could  attend  to  my  wants. 

It  was  now  my  eighth  week  at  the  hospital,  and 
it  found  me  with  little  to  do.  I  pined  silently. 
The  nurse  flitting  in  and  out  cheered  and  then  dis- 
tracted me;  she  was  too  busy  elsewhere  most  of 
the  time  to  suit  me.  I  dared  not  think  too  much 
of  my  troubles,  for  I  found  it  discouraging  and 
weakening.  The  letters  from  Obreeon  furnished 
the  material  I  needed  to  sustain  a  happy  train  of 
thought.  Sitting  up  in  bed  with  this  precious 
poetic  patchwork  piled  over  my  lap,  I  had  many 
a  good  sneeze.  I  am  sure  I  got  some  of  my 
money  back  by  reading  them  over  and  over  again, 
with  the  memory  of  the  original  spirit  in  which 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

they  were  slapped  together.  For  a  time  the  happy 
days  of  the  fifth  flat  came  back  to  me,  and  I  smiled 
and  chuckled  over  the  wildest  specimens  in  sup- 
pressed glee.  Robert  Burns,  of  Scotland,  and  I 
were  responsible  for  many  of  these  lone  lover's 
laments.  I  must  say  that  Burns  held  up  his  end 
fairly  well,  because  I  knew  just  where  to  place  his 
underpinning  to  make  it  support  my  magnificent 
prose.  The  Byron  and  Shakespeare-built  letters 
were  also  good.  Scott  rumbled  a  little  too  hard ; 
his  stride  was  too  firm  to  answer  the  purpose,  ex- 
cept for  short  fillers  now  and  then.  All  the  big 
licks  were  put  in  with  Byron  and  Burns,  and  Mor- 
ris occasionally  as  a  substitute.  Those  fellows 
warmed  up  to  the  subject  in  a  way  that  pleased 
me;  they  took  right  hold  of  a  girl  with  as  little 
timidity  as  a  dancing  professor  and  poured  their 
song  into  her  inclining  ear,  happy  in  the  under- 
standing that  they  were  delivering  the  goods  she 
wanted.  Early  in  the  business  I  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  useless  to  fool  with  the  cold- 
blooded wooers  if  results  were  wanted.  Shake- 
speare, of  course,  was  a  leader,  but  his  best  stuff 
was  getting  to  be  so  common  in  the  language  I 
found  it  impossible  to  quote  him  and  maintain  an 
air  of  dignified  originality,  so  as  to  make  it  appear 
that  the  gems  fell  naturally  by  suggestion  from 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

Jim's  well-stocked  poem  reservoir.  If  the  maiden 
should  get  the  idea  that  the  prose  was  written 
around  the  poetry  the  scenic  effect  would  be  de- 
stroyed. The  great  thing  was  to  make  a  hit  by 
getting  the  sincerity  in  the  prose  boiled  down  so 
thick  that  the  following  poetry  would  seem  to  be 
only  a  breath  of  steam  arising  from  the  solid  mass 
of  seething  sentiment.  It  was  assumed  that  the 
lady  would  know  who  the  poet  was,  but  give  Jim 
credit  for  selecting  the  verses  the  same  as  if  he 
had  written  them;  she  would  not  doubt  him  on 
the  prose,  for  occasionally  I  brought  that  down 
to  the  style  of  a  plain  business  letter  to  destroy 
suspicion. 

The  more  I  read  those  letters  over  at  the  hos- 
pital, the  prouder  I  became.  My  calm  judgment 
was  that  they  were  well  worth  the  price  and  any 
woman  might  be  proud  to  have  them  sent  to  her. 
Perhaps  I  would  copy  them  off  again  some  time 
when  I  needed  help  that  way  myself;  at  any  rate,  I 
was  so  proud  of  them  I  decided  I  would  always 
keep  them  for  their  literary  value. 

When  Hygeia  entered,  I  was  deeply  interested 
in  this  documentary  mass.  I  had  forgotten  about 
my  thirst,  imbibing  from  this  fount  of  poetic  in- 
spiration. She  asked  me  what  it  was  that  pleased 
me  so  much,  but  I  dodged  that  question  politely. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      213 

Soon  I  began  to  regret  my  evasive  answer. 
When  a  man  gets  to  be  real  proud  of  his  work  of 
art,  he  wants  somebody  to  admire  it  with  him  and 
tell  him  how  nice  it  is.  I  had  believed  I  should 
be  close-mouthed  about  those  letters,  but  when  I 
had  taken  off  the  few  at  the  top  signed  with  Jim's 
name  I  noticed  there  was  nothing  in  them  to  tell 
who  wrote  them.  Why  shouldn't  Hygeia  enjoy 
them  with  me  ?  If  a  few  seemed  to  affect  her,  a 
clue  to  her  heart's  entrance  would  appear,  and  then 
I  could  undertake  the  composition  of  more  with 
greater  earnestness  than  ever.  A  man  can  do 
better  in  such  business  for  himself.  Just  a  few 
would  do  no  harm,  at  any  rate.  She  would  not 
know  who  "Devoted  Darling"  and  "Jamie"  and 
"My  Dearest  Own"  might  be,  with  no  envelopes 
and  addresses  to  give  the  thing  away,  and  if  she 
did,  what  would  it  matter  ?  She  would  soon  for- 
get me  as  well  as  the  letters.  Why  not  brighten 
the  dull  moments  ? 

There  is  no  limit  to  the  persuasive  questions  a 
fool  can  put  to  himself. 

"I  thought  you  rang  for  something,"  she  said. 

"Why,  I  remember — I  was  thirsty.  Please  let 
me  have  some  grape-juice  off  the  ice." 

While  she  was  gone  I  thought  it  all  out  care- 
fully and  decided  not  to  show  the  letters.  It 


214.      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

would  be  better  to  be  a  little  cagy  for  a  while. 
When  Hygeia  returned,  I  again  changed  my  mind 
and  passed  over  to  her  a  dozen  or  so  choice  speci- 
mens. 

"Please  sit  right  down  and  read  these  and  tell 
me  what  you  think  of  them,"  said  I. 

She  went  over  to  the  window  and  presently 
began  to  laugh  a  little  louder  than  the  regula- 
tions would  permit.  That  suited  me,  because  it 
proved  the  style  would  melt  if  addressed  to  her; 
taken  second-hand  and  cold  that  way,  she  was 
bound  to  laugh  at  them.  Letters  in  divorce  cases 
referring  to  the  defendant  woman  as  "a  dream 
in  curves"  were  no  joke  to  the  fair  one  who  had 
sighed  over  them.  Buckwheat  cakes  and  love- 
letters  must  be  done  to  order  and  served  hot,  or 
the  steam  dews  on  them  and  soggy  fermentation 
ensues,  giving  off  laughing-gas. 

"Why,  who  in  the  world  could  have  written  this 
nonsense?"  laughed  Hygeia.  "It  sounds  exactly 
like  that  letter  one  of  the  nurses  found  in  the  sun 
parlor  the  other  day — the  same  in  many  respects 
as  that  letter — which  has  been  passed  around  for 
the  entertainment  of  the  nurses  and  the  doctors. 
That  also  must  belong  to  you.  Shall  I  get  it  for 
you?" 

"Perhaps  I  dropped  some  carelessly,  but  it's  no 


WHY,  WHO  IN  THE  WORLD  COULD  HAVE  WRITTEN  THIS  NON- 
SENSE ?"  LAUGHED  HYGEIA. — Page  214. 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      215 

matter,"  said  I.  "Let  me  see  it  some  time  and 
I  can  tell  you.  What  do  you  think  of  them  ?" 

"Think  of  them!"  And  she  smiled  as  if  she 
was  pleased,  as  she  continued  to  turn  page  after 
page.  "Surely  you  could  not  have  written  them, 
did  you,  Mr.  Hopkins  ?" 

"I  ?  A  friend  of  mine — you  showed  him  in  the 
other  day — thought  they  would  keep  my  mind 
occupied,  so  he  brought  them  here." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  he  did  and  that  you  let  me 
read  them.  I  think  the  other  nurses  would  en- 
joy them.  May  I  not  read  a  few  to  them?" 

"Certainly,  take  all  you  want  and  read  all  you 
please ;  only  return  them  in  order." 

"But  did  your  friend  say  who  wrote  them?  If 
they  concerned  you  personally  at  all,  or  your 
friend,  Mr.  Hosley,  of  course  I  should  not  want 
to  take  such  liberties  with  them.  Do  they?" 

"Why,  my  friend  who  brought  them  to  me 
thought  of  publishing  those  letters,"  said  I,  "just 
before  he  brought  them  to  me,  but  I  persuaded 
him  not  to.  Both  the  woman  and  her  husband — " 

"Why,  did  he  really  win  her  heart  with  them, 
and  did  they  get  married?" 

"Certainly.  Letters  like  that  are  written  to 
win,"  I  answered,  with  quiet  satisfaction,  even 
though  murder  had  been  the  outcome  of  my  art. 


216      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

"The  lady  and  her  husband  dead  and  gone  (horir 
esty  would  have  made  me  say  'or  gone'),  the 
letters  fell  into  the  possession  of  my  friend,  who  in 
a  way  deals  in  such  curios.  I  bought  them  from 
him  for  a  song  (some  songs  are  worth  one  thou- 
sand dollars),  although  he  was  not  over-anxious 
to  sell  them." 

"Well,  if  you  bought  them  from  a  dealer  in  let- 
ters, then  they  must  have  belonged  to  strangers. 
Really,  are  you  fooling  ?  Are  you  telling  me  the 
truth?" 

"I  have  not,  since  I  have  known  you,  told  you 
a  single  thing  which  is  not  true.  But  tell  me, 
why  do  you  doubt  my  sincerity?  Why  do  you 
care  if  they  concern  me?"  I  wondered  if  I  could 
have  smitten  her  slightly,  and  my  shoulders  began 
to  broaden  against  the  pillow  and  a  sensation  of 
feeling  handsome  passed  over  me,  although  I  had 
not  been  to  a  barber  in  weeks. 

"Well,  it  would  seem  cruel  to  take  your  love- 
letters,  you  know,  Mr.  Hopkins,  and  read  them 
to  the  other  nurses  to  laugh  over,  now  wouldn't 
it?" 

"As  you  state  it,  perhaps  it  would,"  said  I. 
"But  what  do  you  care  about  Hosley?  Why  do 
you  ask  if  they  concern  him?  Has  Miss  Tesch- 
eron  spoken  to  you  about  him?"  I  was  getting 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      217 

suspicious  again,  for  she  had  refused,  on  one  ex- 
cuse or  another,  to  let  me  see  Mr.  Marshall.  It 
had  flashed  on  me  several  times  again  that  there 
was  a  bare  chance  of  Marshall  being  Hosley  under 
another  name  given  to  him  by  a  person  mistaken 
in  identifying  him,  or  that  he  was  trying  to  hide 
from  me  under  an  alias  so  easy  for  him  to  assume, 
and  had  induced  Miss  Tescheron,  perhaps,  to 
avoid  meeting  me.  The  flowers,  perhaps,  were 
only  to  mislead  me. 

"Did  I  really  ask  if  they  concerned  Mr.  Hos- 
ley?" And  she  looked  at  me  with  such  a  teasing 
air. 

"You  surely  did." 

"Well,  you  used  to  have  so  much  to  say  about 
him  I  thought  perhaps  you  might  have  heard  from 
him,  you  know,  through  this  gentleman  who 
called,  and  if  you  are  still  friendly  to  him  you 
would  not  want  to  have  his  letters  read  around 
the  hospital  to  furnish  entertainment.  Still,  these 
letters  were  written  by  a  married  man,  and  I  un- 
derstand you  and  Mr.  Hosley  are  bachelors.  Mr. 
Hosley  might  have  written  these  letters  as  a  bach- 
elor, I  feared,  and  might  not  be  proud  to  hear 
them  now.  He — " 

"Tell  me,  if  you  thought  of  reading  them  to 
Mr.  Hosley,  where  is  he?  It  might  interest  me 


218       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

to  know.  You  sometimes  talk  strangely,  as  if 
you  know  where  he  is,  and  yet  you  will  not  tell  me. 
Has  Miss  Tescheron  confided  his  whereabouts  to 
you?  If  so,  please  tell  me,  for  I  would,  indeed, 
like  to  confront  that  gentleman  mighty  well." 

"Then  you  are  really  friendly  to  Mr.  Hosley, 
and  may  look  for  him  when  you  leave  here?" 
She  spoke  as  if  I  were  about  to  confirm  her  im- 
pression that  I  knew  only  good  of  Hosley. 

"I  shall  certainly  find  him,  never  fear.  But  my 
friendship  for  that  man  is  dead — slain  by  his  own 
hand,"  said  I,  bitterly. 

This  seemed  to  shock  her  rudely,  but  she  quickly 
recovered  and  asked : 

"Why  look  for  a  man  in  whom  you  have  no  in- 
terest? Has  he  committed  some  crime  that  you 
would  track  him  down?" 

"I  will  track  that  man  down  to  his  very  grave," 
said  I,  solemnly,  shaking  my  forefinger  at  her  as 
she  rested  one  hand  on  the  foot  of  the  bed  and 
looked  at  me  with  breathless  interest.  "Miss 
Tescheron  shall  know  all  that  I  learn.  If  she 
should  ever  happen  to  call  here  to  see  you,  be  sure 
to  tell  her  that,  if  you  please;  but  you  need  not  say 
I  told  you  to  tell  her.  Only,  I  shall  be  willing  to 
have  her  know  that  I  am  on  the  trail  of  that 
scoundrel.  There — I  did  not  mean  to  burden  you 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       219 

with  my  opinion  of  Hosley.  I  had  intended  to 
leave  here  quietly  without  saying  a  word  about 
him.  The  secret  has  clawed  at  my  heart  so  that 
I  have  not  been  able  to  keep  it.  And  what  mat- 
ters it?  You  do  not  know  him.  I  am  satisfied 
that  he  has  skipped  to  parts  unknown,  because  he 
fears  that  officers  are  watching  for  him  here. 
My,  but  it  is  terrible !  Terrible !  How  can  such 
villains  achieve  their  dastardly  ends  with  women 
and  escape  detection !  Some  mysterious  influence 
seems  to  cover  them,  in  all  their  devilish  ways, 
from  the  suspicion  of  innocent  people.  Perhaps 
their  victims  in  many  cases  shrink  from  exposing 
them.  Oh,  forgive  me  for  burdening  you  with 
this  awful  mystery !  It  almost  drives  me  mad !" 

"Mystery!  What  has  he  done?  In  heaven's 
name,  tell  me !"  And  she  almost  screamed  as  she 
clenched  the  bed  with  both  hands  and  leaned  far 
toward  me,  those  wonderful  eyes  staring  in  hor- 
ror. The  effect  of  my  eloquence  was  greater  than 
I  suspected,  but  I  continued  to  expand  with  com- 
mensurate pride. 

"He  murdered  a  woman  but  two  days  before 
he  sought  to  marry  Miss  Tescheron" ;  and  as  I  said 
it,  I  sank  upon  my  pillow  with  a  hand  across  my 
eyes  to  stay  the  tears  which  a  more  vivid  presenta- 
tion of  the  crimes  of  Hosley  brought  to  my  eyes. 


220      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

When  I  looked  up,  the  nurse,  pale  but  calm,  was 
looking  at  me. 

How  wide  I  was  of  the  mark!  Instantly  she 
had  conceived  the  idea  that  the  letter  she  had  been 
reading  to  furnish  diverting  comedy  in  the  next 
room  was  burdened  with  tragedy  for  the  young 
woman  to  whom  she  had  become  deeply  attached. 
Her  training  had  taught  her  to  maintain  self- 
control  in  the  emergency.  Another  woman, 
brought  face  to  face  with  a  murderer  fondling  his 
next  victim  with  gory  hands,  might  have  swooned 
or  excitedly  rushed  to  the  rescue  of  the  fair  prey 
with  wild  denunciations  of  the  criminal. 

"My !  but  you  seem  pale,"  I  said  anxiously. 

"Your  ghost  story  frightened  me,  Mr.  Hop- 
kins. Please  don't  tell  me  any  more  like  that.  It 
is  now  time  for  your  luncheon." 

There  were  so  many  things  on  my  schedule  of 
routine  that  it  was  always  time  for  some  cruel  re- 
quirement to  steal  her  away  from  me. 

As  she  passed  out  I  noticed  a  strange  expression 
of  care  upon  her  beautiful  face.  I  could  not  ac- 
count for  it,  unless  my  earnestness  had  impressed 
her.  Her  point  of  view  made  the  serious  letters 
comedy  for  her  at  first ;  perhaps  this  was  the  reac- 
tion. There  could  be  no  reason  for  her  agitation, 
based  on  her  transient  interest  in  Miss  Tescheron, 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

I  imagined,  for  she  had  only  met  her  for  a  few 
minutes  at  a  time.  It  must  have  been  my  elo- 
quence, the  power  of  my  dramatic  art  to  so  vividly 
portray  the  hideous  Hosley  that  she  became  quite 
as  much  affected  as  if  she  had  intimately  known 
the  criminal,  and  had  followed  his  creeping,  ser- 
pentine ways  for  bringing  the  next  creature  into 
his  power.  It  rather  pleased  me  to  find  that  I 
could  exercise  this  wonderful  influence — a  force  so 
long  latent  in  a  superior  intellectual  equipment,  ob- 
scured by  a  disenchanting  personal  appearance, 
especially  unconvincing  then,  for  I  never  looked 
particularly  well  in  bed. 

A  nurse  I  had  not  seen  before  brought  my 
luncheon,  and  with  it  the  letter,  which  I  quickly 
recognized  belonged  to  my  thousand-dollar  collec- 
tion. 

"Your  nurse  sends  this  letter,  which  I  am  told 
is  yours,"  said  my  new  guardian.  "She  is  ill  and 
the  doctor  has  ordered  her  to  rest." 

"111?  Why,  I  ain  very,  very  sorry  to  hear 
that,"  said  I.  "Tell  me,  please,  how  seriously  ill 
she  is.  Only  a  moment  ago  she  left  here  looking 
very  pale.  Do  tell  me  about  her." 

"Why,  that  is  all  I  know." 

The  next  day  I  learned  that  Hygeia  had  gone 
to  her  home  in  Connecticut  for  a  brief  vacation. 


222       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

Something  had  happened;  I  did  not  know  what. 
The  doctor,  it  appears,  advised  that  a  vacation 
would  be  the  thing.  I  could  learn  no  more.  I 
was  able  to  get  her  address,  and  wrote  a  long  let- 
ter to  her,  but  no  reply  came.  I  began  to  doubt 
the  strength  of  my  magnetic  power  over  her,  so 
encouragingly  demonstrated,  and  was  utterly  mis- 
erable again.  Every  other  worldly  interest  be- 
came dim;  the  last  ray  of  hope  had  gone  and 
through  the  dark  valley  of  despair  I  stumbled 
alone. 

Marshall,  I  learned,  had  left  the  same  day 
Hygeia  departed,  but  I  did  not  care.  I  should 
not  have  spoken  to  him.  I  was  in  no  humor  to 
talk  with  him  over  that  tame  experience  passed 
through  while  I  was  unconscious.  When  burning 
over  a  slow  fire,  a  man  is  not  fit  for  reminiscence. 
Two  weeks  later,  after  an  illness  of  ten  weeks,  I 
was  discharged  from  the  hospital  with  all  wounds 
healed  except  the  one  I  received  there,  and  per- 
haps that  other — the  maddening  effect  of  Hosley's 
infidelity. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IT  was  an  unfortunate  day  for  Mr.  Tescheron 
and  his  family  when  I  isolated  him  among 
the  scheming  natives  of  Hoboken,  that  seat 
of  wonderful  mechanical  learning.  When  the 
birds  had  been  shipped  to  Stukeville,  Mrs.  Tesch- 
eron insisted  that  the  family  return  home  at  once, 
and,  if  necessary,  take  the  consequences  of  a  ter- 
rible publicity.  Life  without  her  friends  had  be- 
come unbearable.  She  must  have  the  comforts 
of  her  home.  Daily  she  begged,  implored,  teased 
and  pined.  Gabrielle,  too,  urged  her  father  to 
consider  her  mother's  health,  for  Hoboken  had 
gotten  upon  Mrs.  Tescheron's  nerves  to  a  danger- 
ous degree. 

"I  care  nothing  now  for  the  publicity,"  said 
Mrs.  Tescheron.  "It  cannot  be  worse  than  this 
sort  of  privacy.  Albert,  I  hope  you  will  see  the 
folly  of  remaining  longer." 

"Mr.  Smith  tells  me  it  would  not  be  safe  to  re- 
turn yet,  Marie.  Be  patient;  in  a  little  while 

223 


224      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

everything  will  have  blown  over.  Remember,  we 
are  paying  Mr.  Smith,  who  is  experienced  in  these 
matters,  and  it  is  good  business  to  take  his  advice." 

Gabrielle  remained  silent  during  the  conversa- 
tion between  her  father  and  mother.  She  had,  as 
usual,  spent  the  best  part  of  the  day  attending  her 
hero  at  the  hospital,  protecting  him  from  the  con- 
sequences of  her  foolish  father's  acts  and  from  his 
traitorous  chum.  Her  plans  were  carrying  well, 
and  were  it  not  for  her  mother's  fretfulness  Ho- 
boken  or  any  spot  within  a  reasonable  distance 
from  the  hospital  would  be  a  satisfactory  abiding 
place  for  her. 

Gabrielle's  disinterestedness  had  already  aroused 
her  father's  suspicion. 

"You  seem  to  be  satisfied  here,  Gabrielle,"  said 
he,  turning  to  his  daughter,  whose  air  of  content- 
ment seemed  to  him  to  be  based  on  something 
more  than  a  sustaining  faith  in  Jim  Hosley;  it 
must,  he  thought,  include  a  full  knowledge  of 
Jim's  retreat.  That  night  she  seemed  to  be  most 
aggravatingly  self-satisfied,  although  she  had 
really  never  been  otherwise  from  the  moment  of 
his  first  denunciation  of  Jim,  closely  followed  by 
the  family's  flight.  This  must  be  something  more 
than  stoicism.  She  had  outgeneraled  him  in  some 
way. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       225 

"Yes,  I  am  perfectly  satisfied,  father,"  replied 
Gabrielle.  "Mother,  however,  needs  her  home. 
The  days  drag  heavily  here.  A  few  weeks'  change 
was  well  enough,  and  I  believe  it  might  have 
helped  her ;  but  you  can  see  that  she  is  worrying  a 
great  deal  now.  Is  it  worth  while,  do  you  think, 
to  sacrifice  mother's  comfort,  perhaps  her  health  ?" 

"These  rooms  are  not  to  my  liking  so  well  as 
those  in  Ninety-sixth  Street,  but  Mr.  King  wrote 
to  me  again  the  other  day  that  the  same  fellow  was 
around  again  to  serve  me  with  that  subpoena. 
Hoboken  may  not  be  so  desirable  as  home,  but 
I  think  you  would  both  be  sorry  to  return  and  un- 
dergo the  ordeal  we  have  been  delivered  from  by 
coming  here.  I  am  trying  a  little  plan  now  which, 
if  it  works,  may  bring  us  home  soon.  I  think  it 
is  the  safe  way  out.  Mr.  Smith  and  I  are  now  at 
work  on  it.  If  all  goes  well,  Marie,  you  will  be 
happily  returned  to  your  home  very  soon,  so 
please  be  as  patient  as  you  can  a  few  days  longer. 
This  miserable  incident  will  then  be  closed  for- 
ever, and  we  may  walk  abroad  again  among  our 
friends,  with  our  reputations  unsullied  and  no  one 
the  wiser  for  our  leaving  as  we  did.  Ah !  it  will 
please  me,  mother,  to  have  it  so." 

"Indeed,  it  will  please  us  all,  Albert,"  Mrs. 
Tescheron  assured  him  sadly,  although  it  seemed 


226      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

to  her  there  could  be  nothing  more  disappointing 
than  an  indefinite  postponement  of  her  heart's  de- 
sire. 

What  those  plans  were  Gabrielle  would  have 
given  Smith  a  retainer  to  know,  for  if  they  in- 
volved the  arrest  of  her  Jim  and  his  extradition 
to  another  State.  She  wondered  how  her  father 
could  believe  they  would  get  away  safely  in  a 
week.  If  the  detectives  had  lost  track  of  the 
fugitive  during  the  time  he  was  in  the  hospital 
she  did  not  believe  they  would  find  him  now  in 
the  hiding-place  she  had  in  mind.  The  moment 
the  hospital  physicians  consented,  Jim  Hosley 
would  be  removed  to  a  spot  where  he  might  con- 
valesce without  fear  of  molestation.  Not  a  soul, 
not  even  her  mother,  should  know  of  that  place, 
for  if  the  pursuit  was  to  be  renewed  in  earnest, 
her  vigilance  must  be  all  the  greater. 

Gabrielle's  fears,  as  is  usually  the  case  with 
lovers  whose  wisdom  is  intuitional,  were  not  well 
founded.  The  detectives  had  long  ago  ceased  to 
do  any  actual  work  in  following  clues  to  deter- 
mine the  whereabouts  of  the  bad  man.  Why 
should  they?  Their  idea  was  to  keep  him  mys- 
teriously at  large,  with  the  district  attorney  and 
police  always  just  around  the  corner.  Suspended 
interest  pays  well,  for  the  service  was  charged  at 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       227 

so  much  per  week  with  occasionally  a  bonus  for 
an  "extra." 

Mr.  Tescheron  did  not  have  in  mind  a  further 
pursuit  of  Hosley  after  he  had  paid  the  detective 
bureau  for  weeks  of  service,  which  brought  no 
results  other  than  rumors.  To  have  the  disturber 
of  his  peace  in  hiding  where  no  man  could  find 
him  would  have  pleased  Mr.  Tescheron ;  but  from 
the  reports  of  Smith  it  seemed  certain  that  a  crisis 
was  about  to  be  reached.  Hosley  had  been  lo- 
cated in  South  Dakota,  claiming  a  residence  ante- 
dating our  fire  by  several  weeks.  A  man  who  has 
had  trouble  with  his  wives  generally  goes  there. 
The  officials  were  about  to  send  men  on  to  arrest 
him,  and  then  await  his  extradition.  There  was 
enough  evidence,  Mr.  Smith  said,  in  the  Brown- 
ing case  alone  to  warrant  the  belief  that  the  au- 
thorities would  readily  secure  the  transfer  of  their 
man  to  New  York ;  but  long  before  that  time,  all 
the  horrible  details  would  appear  in  the  papers. 

"We  have  staved  this  thing  off  for  five  weeks, 
Mr.  Tescheron,"  said  Mr.  Smith,  in  one  of  his 
private  interviews  with  his  client  at  the  Stuffer 
House.  They  sat  that  afternoon  in  a  corner  of 
the  writing-room  adjoining  the  large  living-room. 

"Yes,  I  think  you  have  done  well,"  replied  Mr. 
Tescheron.  "But  how  much  have  I  paid  you 


228      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

altogether?  About  one  thousand  eight  hundred 
dollars,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  or  a  trifle  more  or  less,  one  way  or  the 
other.  I  can't  remember  just  now.  It  has  in- 
volved me  in  heavy  expense,  this  case  has,  Mr. 
Tescheron.  If  I  had  it  to  do  over  again,  I  could 
not  possibly  quote  such  favorable  terms  for  our 
facilities — I  could  not  possibly.  No,  sir,  I  could 
not  possibly  think  of  doing  so."  Mr.  Smith's  em- 
phasis took  the  form  of  dwindling  repetition  so 
common  to  men  of  business,  who  have  hold  of 
the  best  end  of  the  bargain,  and  have  decided  to 
keep  their  hold. 

"Well,  in  the  fish  business,  one  thousand  eight 
hundred  dollars  stands  for  enough  to  feed  ten 
thousand  people,"  remarked  Mr.  Tescheron,  glum- 
ly. "I  feel  as  if  it  ought  to  pay  for  a  lot  of  de- 
tective work.  I  am  sorry  you  think  you  are  so 
underpaid." 

There  was  a  trace  of  a  sneer  that  Mr.  Smith 
did  not  like,  and  as  he  held  the  upper  hand  in  the 
detective  business  he  did  not  need  to  tolerate  such 
conduct  in  his  client. 

"Perhaps  we'd  better  call  the  thing  off,"  said 
Mr.  Smith.  "You  and  your  family  remain  here 
— or  you  might  go  down  to  Lakewood.  In  that 
way  you  will  escape  much  of  the  disagreeable  no- 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      229 

toriety — quite  a  good  deal  of  it,  at  any  rate.  Yes, 
sir,  a  considerable  amount  of  it" 

Mr.  Smith  snapped  some  documentary-looking 
papers,  and  as  he  drew  his  lips  together  and  nerv- 
ously twisted  his  head,  he  thrust  the  papers  deep 
in  an  inside  pocket.  They  contained  a  memoran- 
dum of  the  estimated  price  for  engineering  the  re- 
turn of  the  Tescheron  family  to  New  York  under 
an  iron-clad  guarantee  of  protection. 

But  the  sarcasm  was  more  of  an  irritant  than 
the  client  could  stand. 

"See  here,  Smith,  you  talk  to  me  in  a  way  I 
don't  like";  and  Mr.  Tescheron  glared  as  he  be- 
came more  combative  than  he  had  ever  been  in 
his  dealings  with  this  prosperous  leech.  "I  don't 
care  to  have  you  threaten  me  in  this  underhanded 
manner.  Perhaps  I  have  been  a  fool  to  have 
placed  so  much  confidence  in  you  from  the  start. 
You  have  kept  me  scared  and  away  from  my  home 
for  five  weeks,  and  now  you  hint  that  the  end  is 
not  in  sight.  We  are  all  sick  and  tired  of  this 
place.  Hoboken  is  no  paradise,  let  me  tell  you. 
I  am  bored  to  death  here.  For  the  money  paid 
to  you  to  date,  you  have  produced  nothing  but  dis- 
comfort. I  am  thinking  of  packing  up  and  start- 
ing back  to-morrow,  let  the  consequences  be  what 
they  may.  I  think  I  have  been  a  victim  quite  long 


230      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

enough,  and  have  paid  just  about  all  a  fool  ought 
to  pay  for  a  vacation  of  five  weeks." 

"Well,  you  know  your  own  business  best,  of 
course,  Mr.  Tescheron.  If  you  really  don't  fear 
the  publicity,  why  did  you  engage  me  at  all  ?  Why 
did  you  go  to  any  expense  whatever?  Of  course, 
it  is  foolish,  as  you  say,  to  spend  money  to  avoid 
that  which  you  do  not  fear.  Go  back  and  take 
your  medicine;  let  your  wife  and  daughter  take 
theirs.  Go  back  by  all  means ;  start  to-morrow. 
Don't  delay." 

That  fellow  Smith  certainly  knew  enough  about 
fishing  for  men  to  fill  a  volume  with  pointers  on 
the  best  lines,  rods,  and  bait — artificial,  worms  or 
minnows.  He  knew  just  what  he  could  do  with 
a  man  restrained  by  fear,  and  filled  with  the  idea 
that  his  money  and  superior  business  judgment 
would  enable  him  to  gain  his  ends  in  every  emer- 
gency. A  poor  man  is  protected  against  many 
parasites  by  his  lean  purse.  It  gets  back  to  the 
saying,  "A  fool  and  his  money  are  soon  parted" ; 
but  what  impresses  me  at  this  turn  of  our  narra- 
tive is  the  fact  that  the  fool  is  only  interesting  up 
to  the  point  of  the  parting.  After  that  he  is 
dropped  from  the  plans  of  his  pursuers.  Notice 
of  the  failure  of  Mr.  Tescheron's  business  in  the 
reports  of  the  day  would  have  removed  him  from 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

the  realm  of  mystery  to  sure  footing  on  the  hard- 
pan  of  tough  luck. 

Mr.  Tescheron  had  in  his  haste  begun  to  find 
fault  before  he  knew  just  what  move  to  make. 
He  realized  that  Smith  read  that  fact  in  his  man- 
ner and  peevish  complaining.  He  felt  the  hook 
in  his  gills.  Smith  felt  the  tug  on  the  line.  Per- 
haps at  that  interview  he  thought  how  like 
my  advice  this  sarcastic  statement  from  Smith 
seemed.  At  times  he  felt  like  a  coward,  and  then 
encouraged  himself  to  believe  he  was  really  a  brave 
man,  saving  his  loved  ones  from  the  blasting 
breath  of  scandal  more  awful  than  any  calamity 
that  might  overtake  them. 

Smith's  shrewd  little  brain  turned  on  cash.  Gold 
dollars  were  the  ball  bearings  that  eased  its 
frictionless  revolutions.  Pine  forests  have  their 
charms,  no  doubt,  for  those  misguided  creatures 
who  enjoy  the  bracing  ozone  of  the  balsam-laden 
air.  To  Smith  the  pungent  sap  of  the  evergreen 
tree  was  a  poor  substitute  for  the  stimulating  es- 
sence of  greenback,  the  cologne  of  greasy  bills,  and 
it  would  take  a  big  pile  of  them  to  make  the  room 
"stuffy"  enough  to  have  him  raise  the  window. 
When  it  came  to  drawing  nigh  to  money,  Mr. 
Smith  was  the  pink  of  propinquity. 

Noting  that  Mr.  Tescheron  had  been  subdued, 


232      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

Mr.  Smith  started  to  go.  He  bade  his  patron  to 
be  of  good  cheer,  and  promised  him  the  outlook 
would  surely  brighten  in  time. 

"Keep  your  seat  a  minute,  Smith,"  urged  Mr. 
Tescheron,  whose  ideas  had  been  strengthened  by 
the  tonic  of  Smith's  stimulating  rejoinder,  and  I 
may  add  that  the  turn  was  about  what  Smith  had 
planned  to  happen.  "What  are  those  papers  you 
put  back  in  your  pocket  ?"  The  observing,  gullible 
man  of  business  was  trying  to  swim  where  the 
current  was  a  little  too  swift  for  him. 

"Why,  I  had  here  a  memorandum  of  what  it 
would  cost  to  have  you  go  back  and  have  the 
whole  business  hushed  up  forever." 

"How  much?" 

"Three  thousand  dollars." 

"Whew !    That's  a  scorcher." 

"Flanagan  wanted  six,  but  I  got  next  to  him 
myself  and  I  think — I'm  not  sure — but  I  think  he 
would  take  three." 

"I  can't  think  of  it.  I'll  give  a  thousand,  but 
not  a  cent  more.  And  say — how  much  do  you 
keep  out  of  it,  Smith  ?" 

Mr.  Tescheron  cast  a  suspicious  eye  on  the  de- 
tective, who  proceeded  to  apply  his  formula  for 
suspicion. 

"That  is  an  insult,  Mr.  Tescheron,"  exclaimed 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       233 

Mr.  Smith.  "You  may  not  have  intended  it  as 
such,  but  really  that  is  too  much  for  me  to  bear.  I 
have  served  you  untiringly  and  faithfully,  and 
really  you  should  give  me  better  rtreatment.  I  can- 
not allow  you  to  insinuate  that  I  would  be  guilty 
of—" 

"There,  there,  Smith,  forget  it.  I  shouldn't 
have  accused  you  of  that.  But  this  expense  is  too 
heavy.  I'll  stay  here  a  while  longer.  As  there 
seems  to  be  no  danger  of  the  case  being  revived,  I 
think  we  may  return  in  a  week  or  so  without  pay- 
ing the  hush  money." 

"Just  as  you  say,  but  I  confess  the  newspaper 
reports  have  scared  me,  even  though  you — " 

"The  reports !"  Tescheron  colored  and  blanched 
in  turn.  "The  reports!  Where?" 

"You  saw  them." 

"Certainly  I  did  not.  Where  did  they  appear? 
When  ?  Why  have  you  not  told  me  ?" 

"But  you  read  the  papers,  and  I  understood  you 
did  not  fear  them  while  over  here." 

"Fear  them !  What  am  I  here  for  except  to  es- 
cape the  scandal  that  would  attach  to  my  family? 
Smith,  are  you  lying  to  me?  There  were  no  re- 
ports. Had  there  been  I  could  not  have  missed 
them;  my  man  King  or  some  one  would  have 
called  my  attention  to  them." 


234      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

Mr.  Smith  handed  a  carefully  folded  newspaper 
clipping,  with  ragged  edges,  to  Mr.  Tescheron. 
It  had  the  appearance  of  being  hastily  torn  from 
a  paper.  Mr.  Tescheron  read  it  slowly,  and  as  he 
did  so  Smith  watched  the  victim  writhe  as  the 
prepared  venom  paralyzed  it  for  the  death-blow.  I 
have  seen  this  clipping.  It  read  as  follows: 

MURDER  HIDDEN  BY  THE  POLICE. 
MYSTERIOUS  DEATH   OF  A  WOMAN   NOT  RE- 
PORTED FOR  Six  WEEKS. 


The  mysterious  death  of  a  woman,  supposed  to 
have  been  murdered  in  an  apartment  house  in  this 
city  by  her  husband,  two  days  prior  to  an  incen- 
diary fire  that  took  place  six  weeks  ago  and  de- 
stroyed all  traces  of  the  crime,  was  considered  by 
the  Grand  Jury  to-day,  with  Coroner  Flanagan 
as  one  of  the  witnesses.  The  names  of  the  parties 
concerned  in  the  tragedy  could  not  be  learned  at 
the  Central  Office,  and  Coroner  Flanagan  refused 
to  give  any  details  concerning  the  autopsy.  He 
admitted,  however,  that  the  matter  had  been  called 
to  his  attention  anonymously,  and  his  subsequent 
investigations  had  led  him  to  report  the  matter  to 
the  Central  Office.  The  police  say  that  publicity 
at  this  time  might  make  it  impossible  for  them 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      235 

to  secure  the  presence  of  the  murderer,  who  has 
been  found  in  a  Western  State.  As  the  case  has 
reached  the  Grand  Jury,  an  indictment  may  follow 
at  any  time. 

A  well-known  merchant  who  has  been  absent 
from  the  city  since  the  date  of  the  fire  is  in  some 
way  said  to  be  involved  as  an  important  witness. 


On  the  back  of  the  clipping,  Mr.  Tescheron's 
dazed  eyes  noted  a  market  report  dated  at  Chi- 
cago, but  he  did  not  scan  the  paper  more  closely. 
Nervously  he  handed  it  to  Smith.  When  he  had 
pondered  a  moment  he  said : 

"I'll  pay  it." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WHAT  should  I  do  with  myself?  That 
was  my  problem,  when  I  went  out  into 
the  world  again.  No  boarding-house 
could  satisfy  me,  so  I  determined  to  set  up  in  light 
housekeeping,  which  is  a  city  imitation  of  Robin- 
son Crusoe  in  two  rooms.  There  I  could  be  mel- 
ancholy without  interruption ;  it  would  not  be  nec- 
essary to  chatter  with  the  other  boarders  either  to 
keep  them  from  observing  my  absent-mindedness 
or  to  divert  my  own  attention  from  the  dull  rou- 
tine of  cannery  products,  synthetic  meats,  and 
"laid  down  eggs" — laid  only  a  little  way  down  by 
the  hen  and  away  down  in  a  barrel  by  a  man 
under  water-glass  for  eight  months  and  eight 
cents  more  per  dozen.  Besides,  if  you  keep  house 
in  the  city  an  arrangement  may  be  made  with  your 
milkman  so  that  you  may  irrigate  your  milk  to  suit 
yourself.  You  simply  request  him  to  deliver  the 
water  he  usually  blends  with  the  milk  in  a  sepa- 
rate vessel,  which,  of  course,  you  are  glad  to  pro- 
vide. Then  if  you  get  only  a  pint  of  cow's  milk 

236 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       237 

for  the  price  of  a  quart,  you  are  satisfied,  because 
you  have  the  privilege  of  seasoning  it  by  superior 
home-methods  of  irrigation  to  suit  yourself.  I  was 
too  much  of  a  farmer  to  ever  board  comfortably  in 
the  city. 

Jim  always  agreed  with  me  in  those  days  before 
nervousness  induced  by  woman  drove  us  through 
fire  and  over  the  bumpy  paths  of  error,  that  house- 
keeping was  the  ideal  life.  Knowledge  of  what 
the  people  will  stand  is  power,  and  it  has  packed 
some  powerful  doses  in  cans.  They  used  to  throw 
away  half  the  hog  until  they  got  knowledge. 
Some  epicure  who  lived  on  rats  and  bats'  eyes,  an- 
nounced that  the  black  spot  in  the  oyster  is  the 
best  part.  What  he  had  to  say  was  published  in 
a  bulletin  or  a  report — let  me  see,  was  it  from 
the  Department  of  Agriculture  ?  I've  read  a  good 
many  of  their  bulletins,  but  I  can't  be  sure  if  they 
did  that  for  the  country  or  not.  At  any  rate,  the 
report  went  into  oysters  from  away  back,  quoted 
authorities  from  Egypt  and  Persia,  who  were  fond 
of  dogs,  and  gave  the  needed  impetus  to  the  cap- 
tains of  the  canning  industry,  who  are  always  on 
the  lookout  for  pointers — or  pugs.  Since  then  all 
the  black  spots  have  been  saved  on  the  farm, 
whether  in  hogs  or  apples,  done  up  at  some  fac- 
tory in  neat  glass  jars,  with  a  chemist's  certificate 


238      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

that  they  do  not  contain  boracic  acid  or  turpentine, 
and  will  not  eat  the  enamel  off  a  stew-kettle ;  ster- 
ilized, gold-labeled  and  rechristened  "Meadfern" 
crab  apples,  mincemeat,  gelatine,  invalid's  food 
and  what  not,  until  it  is  hard  to  tell  where  the 
economy  will  stop.  The  latest  thing  in  this  line 
is  the  current  information  that  it  pays  to  feed  the 
stimulating  prickers  from  the  wild  gooseberries  to 
make  the  hens  lay. 

I  once  asked  a  fellow  who  ran  a  cannery  why 
he  used  such  expensive  labels. 

"To  please  the  goats,"  he  answered. 

And  so  his  business  is  largely  human  nature, 
too.  We  laugh  at  the  foolish  goats  for  eating 
the  label  off  a  can — we  eat  the  same  thing  our- 
selves. When  I  come  to  drink  the  bitter  hemlock, 
I  pray  it  may  be  labeled  so  as  to  take  the  pucker 
out  of  it 

I  would  rather  starve  than  board,  so  I  started 
out  to  find  my  desert  island. 

"You  advertise  rooms  for  light  housekeeping," 
said  I  to  a  sad-faced,  middle-aged  woman,  who 
answered  my  ringing  of  the  bell  of  a  three-story 
brownstone  house  in  East  Thirty-eighth  Street. 
Some  prosperous  merchant  had  probably  lived 
there  twenty  years  before,  but  it  had  been  con- 
verted into  a  nest  for  workers. 


YOU      ADVERTISE      ROOMS      FOR     LIGHT      HOUSEKEEPING. 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      239 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  replied.    "Two  back  rooms." 

"What  floor?"  I  asked,  having  in  mind  the 
force  of  gravity. 

"Second  floor.     How  many  in  your  family?" 

"Only  me." 

"You  keep  house  alone?" 

"Certainly.     I  know  how." 

"Don't  you  find  it  lonesome?" 

"I  hope  so.     I  want  to  be  lonesome." 

"Well,  I  don't  know."  She  hesitated  and 
looked  me  over  with  great  care.  "Have  you  any- 
body to  recommend  you  ?" 

"I  see  that  you  doubt  my  sanity,  madam.  My 
nerves  are  a  little  out  of  line ;  I  have  just  left  the 
hospital  and  must  be  quiet.  Do  you  see?  If  you 
must  have  references,  I  work  for  the  Department 
of  Health." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,  then,  if  you  work  for  the 
Department  of  Health." 

The  rooms  suited  me.  The  small  hall-room 
was  the  kitchen,  and  the  larger  room  was  the  liv- 
ing-room, equipped  with  one  of  those  furniture 
alligators  and  diabolical  economizers  of  space,  a 
folding  bed,  and  a  few  chairs  bravely  presenting 
a  polished  but  brittle  front,  under  the  bracing  in- 
fluence of  the  gluepot,  as  I  afterward  learned. 
Every  time  one  of  those  chairs  broke  down  under 


240      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

me,  my  heart  also  went  out  to  the  poor  soul,  Mrs. 
Dewey,  the  landlady,  who  made  her  living  by 
pinching  a  profit  out  of  every  penny.  She  was 
a  generous  creature,  so  far  as  she  could  be ;  but  a 
hard  world's  exactions  squeezed  her  to  a  meanness 
she  herself  detested,  but  must  practice  or  starve. 
When  I  think  long  of  poor  Mrs.  Dewey,  whom  I 
knew  for  only  a  few  weeks,  I  want  to  begin  life 
over  again  as  a  reformer.  I'd  take  an  axe  to 
Mr.  Dewey,  and  begin  my  reforms  on  him  as  a 
typical  subject  in  need  of  annihilation,  and  get  as 
far  as  a  man  a  few  centuries  ahead  of  his  time 
might  expect  to. 

Old  Dewey — the  Mr.  Dewey  hereinbefore  re- 
ferred to — was  the  black  background  and  cellar 
of  the  institution.  Like  a  rat,  he  came  from  the 
coal  heap  or  a  hidden  corner  unawares  and  was 
gone  into  further  darkness  before  you  could  turn 
to  learn  the  cause  of  the  noise  he  made.  His 
shadowy  participation  in  home  management  con- 
tributed to  the  family's  progress  as  a  millstone 
about  the  neck  of  its  mistress,  and  did  not  follow 
over-stimulation,  the  common  cause  of  chronic  de- 
pression in  husbands  of  boarding-house  keepers 
and  women  who  rent  furnished  rooms.  Bone- 
laziness  filling  the  marrow  and  changing  its  nat- 
ural pink  to  a  Roquefort  verdigris  of  decay,  was 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      241 

my  diagnosis  of  old  Dewey's  ailment.  He  moved 
with  a  premeditation  which  nine  times  out  of  ten 
amounted  to  standing  still ;  rest  resulted  from  two 
opposing  forces,  Mrs.  Dewey's  beseeching  and 
threats  colliding  with  his  will  traveling  against 
her  purpose  with  counter-balancing  velocity  and 
mass.  A  hired  man  would  have  left  her  long  ago 
under  such  tongue-lashing,  but  old  Dewey  could 
not  leave,  because  to  leave  is  an  act.  There  were 
no  verbs  in  his  vocabulary  comprehending  possi- 
bilities of  usefulness  within  range  of  the  present 
tense.  What  an  irony  in  names !  I  often  thought. 
A  man  who  is  employed  in  the  Department  of 
Health  has  a  pass  to  the  good  wishes  of  a  woman 
who  rents  a  house  in  New  York.  Mrs.  Dewey 
regarded  me  as  a  person  of  influence  with  the  gov- 
erning powers,  one  who  could  probably  get  her 
landlord  to  "do  something  with  the  old-fashioned 
bathtub"  by  prying  him  through  the  official  lever 
of  departmental  requirements.  It  was  far  from 
my  purpose  to  deceive  her,  but  nothing  I  could 
say  in  denial  was  strong  enough  to  change  her 
conviction.  My  presence  under  her  roof  induced 
in  Mrs.  Dewey  a  state  of  expectancy  over  a  new 
enameled  bathtub  that  carried  with  it  at  first  more 
deference  than  she  paid  to  the  other  tenants.  When 
my  milk-bottle  fell  off  the  back  window-sill  into 


242       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

the  yard  below,  she  swept  up  what  the  cat  left 
without  complaining-. 

A  few  short  weeks  before  I  was  a  man  with 
some  confidence  in  my  fellows ;  life  had  its  charms, 
hope  sustained  me.  Rosy  views  are  for  those 
whose  faith  has  not  been  shattered.  Optimism 
could  find  no  support  in  my  bitter  experiences. 
Hermits  may  find  seclusion  in  crowds,  thought  I. 
No  one  could  find  me  at  my  new  address,  and  it 
was  my  intention  to  seek  no  new  friends,  and  to 
avoid  every  one  I  knew.  I  did  not  want  to  an- 
swer questions  about  Jim,  and  I  did  not  want  to 
hear  anything  more  of  him.  I  had  read  all  the 
published  accounts  of  the  fire  and  was  glad  to 
note  that  the  secret  had  not  been  revealed.  As  for 
Miss  Tescheron,  she  had  probably  lost  faith  in  him 
and  suspected  me  by  this  time.  As  I  could  not 
explain  to  her  my  change  of  heart  toward  Jim 
witHout  implicating  myself,  I  proposed  to  wash 
my  hands  of  the  whole  affair  and  go  it  alone  in 
future — for  a  time  at  any  rate.  Should  I  not 
write  to  her  and  thank  her  for  sending  flowers  to 
me  when  I  was  ill  ?  Was  it  not  the  grateful  thing 
to  do  ?  I  had  written  Hygeia  and  no  reply  came. 
I  had  quite  a  bunch  of  Jim's  letters  on  hand  also 
to  demonstrate  my  powers  as  a  letter-writer. 
Writing,  I  concluded,  was  not  fortunate  for  me. 


It  would  be  better  to  have  Miss  Tescheron 
regard  me  as  an  ungrateful  wretch,  a  fit  asso- 
ciate of  the  scoundrel  who  had  toyed  with  her 
affections. 

Robinson  Crusoe  started  his  island  home  with 
about  as  many  clothes  as  I  had  when  I  left  the 
hospital.  It  was  fortunate  that  the  city  was  such 
a  kind  employer;  that  my  pay  went  on  while  I 
was  ill,  and  that  my  connection  with  the  Health 
Department  secured  the  best  hospital  service  at 
a  nominal  charge.  I  ordered  a  new  trunk  and 
a  new  outfit  of  clothing  the  day  after  my  arrival, 
and  when  the  clothes  came  I  proceeded  to  try  them 
on,  but  there  was  no  fun  in  it  without  Jim  to  guy 
me.  I  fought  hard  to  keep  that  fellow  out  of 
my  mind,  but  he  was  with  me  day  and  night.  I 
could  not  get  away  from  him  and  my  sorrow. 
Was  it  his  ghost  hovering  near,  longing  to  re- 
turn to  its  earthly  habitation,  and  propose  a 
housekeeping  merger  with  me?  My  fried 
onions  might  have  penetrated  the  other  world  and 
recalled  him  with  such  longings,  for  there  are 
worse  places  than  home  at  dinner-time. 

Mrs.  Dewey  entered  one  day  and  found  me 
with  my  feet  on  the  window-trim  and  the  rest 
of  me  crouched  in  the  most  substantial  rocker.  I 
was  smoking  and  cogitating.  It  was  so  quiet  and 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

I  was  so  far  out  of  sight  that  she  did  not  know 
I  was  there  until  she  started  to  dust  the  chair. 
The  smoke  had  not  suggested  my  presence,  for 
old  Dewey  was  always  doing  that — he  had  learned 
how  when  young,  and  so  it  was  no  trouble. 

"Oh,  excuse  me,  I  didn't  know  you  were  in 
the  room.  You're  always  so  quiet,"  she  said. 

"Sorrow  makes  a  man  quiet." 

"Sorrow?  Yes,  you're  right;  but  what  have 
you—" 

"Yes,  I  have  much,"  I  answered.  "I  know 
your  tragedy,  but  you  can't  guess  mine.  You 
have  my  sympathy,  and  if  I  could  help  you  I 
would ;  but  you  can't  help  me." 

"Some  woman,  Mr.  Hopkins — I  did  not  think 
you  were  married.  You  must  be — " 

"No,"  said  I,  and  I  spoke  slowly,  with  some 
choking.  "I  have  been  wronged  by  a  man,  a 
friend  in  whom  I  had  faith;  with  whom  I  lived 
for  ten  years.  We  were  closer  than  brothers. 
He  deserted  me  in  my  hour  of  need — but  go  on 
with  your  dusting;  what  matters  it?  I  tell  you 
so  that  you  may  understand  why  I  feel  so  badly. 
Heaviness  grows  upon  me,  so  that  I  doubt  if  I 
shall  ever  see  the  bright  side  of  things  again." 

Mrs.  Dewey  wiped  away  the  tears  from  her 
careworn  face,  s 


"Ten  weeks  ago,"  I  continued,  "we  parted,  and 
he  has  fled,  branded  as  a  criminal  in  my  eyes,  by 
evidence  which  no  one  can  doubt.  I  am  alone, 
despondent,  and  insanity  or  hard  work  must  be 
my  escape.  As  I  cannot  get  my  mind  on  my 
business,  I  fear  the  worst.  The  blow  is  more  than 
I  can  bear." 

"Pshaw!  You're  only  a  young  man.  You 
don't  know  what  sorrow  is.  When  you  spoke 
so  sad,  you  brought  a  tear  to  my  eye,  but  I  never 
let  the  tears  get  the  best  of  me.  I  think  you  are 
weak  in  body  yet  You  need  better  food.  You 
don't  eat  right  You  ought  to  go  out  to  some 
good  restaurant  and  get  three  square  meals  a  day. 
You  have  the  money  to  pay  for  them,  and  you 
ought  to  do  it" 

"Eat !  Don't  speak  of  eating.  My  appetite  is 
all  gone.  Some  day  I  may  get  over  this  dismal 
feeling  and  take  your  kind  advice,  but  not  now." 

"Men  have  no  grit  It  takes  a  woman,  I'm 
thinking,  to  carry  a  heart-load.  If  it  was  a 
woman  you  were  worrying  about,  I'd  coddle  you 
a  little;  but  I  never  knew  a  man  who  ran  away 
from  his  friends  who  was  worth  a  tear.  You'll 
soon  see  the  folly  of  it" 

"I  don't  blame  you  for  hating  all  men,"  said  I, 
knowingly.  "You  judge  the  sex  by  the  sped- 


246      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

men  you  have  at  home.  All  women  do  the  same 
at  your  age." 

"You're  crazy,  now,  Mr.  Hopkins,"  blurted  the 
woman,  her  anger  quickly  rising.  "Two  days  in 
my  house  and  you  undertake  to  advise  me  against 
my  husband  with  whom  I  have  lived  in  peace  for 
twenty-five  years.  Have  I  given  you  license  to 
interfere  in  myaffairs  ?  You  astonish  me  with  your 
impertinence !  You  amaze  me !  No  man  has  ever 
dared  to  offer  me  such  an  insult !  I  will  have  you 
understand,  sir,  that  Mr.  Dewey  is  my  husband, 
and  I  will  allow  no  one  to  slightingly  refer  to  him 
in  my  presence."  She  was  heaving  and  grasping 
the  broom  pretty  firmly.  I  crawled  into  a  farther 
chair. 

"Why,  madam,  I  overheard  you  in  the  hall  this 
morning  berating  him  as  the  laziest  vagabond  that 
ever  breathed,  and  you  prayed — " 

"Never  mind.  He's  my  husband.  When  I 
want  some  one  to  interfere,  I'll  go  to  a  lawyer, 
who's  in  that  business.  I  won't  peddle  my 
troubles  to  strangers.  If  you  haven't  any  more 
sense  than  to  interfere  in  our  affairs,  you  must  be 
crazy  now,  and  if  I  were  you  I  wouldn't  worry 
about  getting  crazy." 

Mrs.  Dewey  passed  out  and  slammed  the  door. 

I  wanted  to  go  right  down  and  jump  off  the 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      247 

dock  when  this  counter-irritant  blistered  me  and 
her  tonic  bitters  were  poured  into  my  lethargic 
circulation.  Stimulation  brought  a  reaction  of 
brighter  views,  however.  Mrs.  Dewey's  old- 
fashioned  drubbing  held  the  mirror  so  that  I  could 
behold  a  life-sized  burro  every  time  I  looked  into 
it.  There  never  can  be  any  use  for  a  middleman, 
before  or  after  the  marriage  contract,  thought  I. 
Shame  took  the  place  of  conceit;  my  pride  was 
humbled  and  fear  was  swept  away.  I  mended 
with  amazing  rapidity  under  the  earnest  eloquence 
of  that  short  sermon,  delivered  by  a  woman  with 
a  broom. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FOUR  of  the  happiest  weeks  of  their  lives, 
Gabrielle  and  Jim  spent  with  the  Gibsons 
in  their  Produce  Exchange  tower,  far  out 
of  the  way  of  enemies,  if  any  there  might  be  in 
pursuit.  Gabrielle  had  confided  in  Mrs.  Gibson, 
and  was  urged  by  her  to  bring  Jim  there  to  con- 
valesce, as  the  doctor  said  he  ought  not  to  walk 
much  for  two  or  three  months.  The  lovers  were 
delighted  to  transfer  their  trysting  place  to  those 
romantic  quarters — a  castle  tower  in  the  heart  of 
New  York,  surrounded  by  a  harbor  moat,  and  an 
elevator  which  served  well  the  purpose  of  a  bridge 
leading  to  the  portcullis  of  the  upper  floors.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Gibson,  and  their  daughter,  the  winsome 
Nellie,  were  delighted  to  have  them  as  visitors, 
and  entered  into  their  defense  against  the  cruel 
father  and  his  co-conspirators,  the  faithless  chum 
and  the  unfeeling  world  in  general,  with  hearty 
warmth,  cheering  Gabrielle  and  filling  the  soul  of 
Jim  with  heavenly  contentment.  There  he  had 
248 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      249 

met  his  darling  and  the  spot  would  be  sacred  to 
him  always ;  it  was  doubly  blessed  when  her  sweet 
voice  sounded  near  him  within  its  walls,  and  her 
tender  glances  drew  fond  response  from  his  eyes. 
On  the  floors  below  they  sold  grain  and  bulletined 
the  price  of  tallow  at  "five  and  one-half  cents  for 
city";  but  in  the  far-away  tower  the  din  of  the 
wheat  pit  was  not  heard.  From  the  round  win- 
dows the  ships  of  commerce  appeared  to  ride  the 
tide  care-free  as  the  darting  gulls  that  dived  for 
their  prey  or  swung  on  resting  wings  in  broad 
circles  from  shore  to  shore.  Dreams  fairer  than 
those  lovers  pictured  in  quiet  ecstasy  have  never 
been  outlined  by  brush  or  melodious  line.  Just 
a  little  cube  of  heaven  had  been  caught  from  the 
realms  of  bliss,  and  they  dwelt  together  there  for 
four  weeks. 

Now,  four  weeks  in  heaven  is  a  very  brief  per- 
iod. Whole  eternities  pass  there  in  what  seems 
to  be  an  interval  too  brief  to  record  on  Cupid's 
chronometer.  Joy  in  my  lady's  tower,  traveling 
with  swift,  winged  feet,  marks  not  the  hour  like 
Terror  in  the  castle  dungeon,  where  the  outcast 
prisoner  lies  upon  the  damp  stones  writhing  in 
feverish  despair.  While  they  were  up  in  heaven 
together,  I  was  down  in — the  hospital  or  at  Mrs. 
Dewey's.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tescheron  were  at  home 


250      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

in  Ninety-sixth  Street.  The  bill  of  folly  had  been 
paid  and  Mr.  Tescheron  hoped  the  episode  had 
closed,  although  Gabrielle's  manner  continued  to 
indicate  that  she  had  not  suffered  so  deeply  as  the 
strength  of  her  attachment  to  the  outlaw  had  led 
him  to  believe  she  would.  What  was  the  secret  ? 
He  did  not  ask  her,  for  having  paid  nearly  $5,000 
(more,  but  he  didn't  know  it),  working  along  his 
own  lines,  he  did  not  care  to  admit  that  his 
daughter  had  outgeneraled  him.  A  premonition 
that  she  had  done  so  prepared  him  in  moments 
of  reflection  to  hear  the  truth.  He  fought  against 
the  concept  every  time  it  flashed  before  him,  but 
with  weakening  strength,  as  the  outclassed  fighter 
staggers  groggily  to  the  ropes.  What  match  was 
he,  what  adversary  I,  for  Cupid,  lacking  the  in- 
spiration the  god  gave  to  his  faithful  adherents? 
If  you  ask  me  why  I  am  so  familiar  with  Mr. 
Tescheron's  fears  and  numerous  other  matters  re- 
corded here,  I  make  reply  that  I  have  investigated 
all  the  sources  of  information  in  any  way  con- 
nected with  these  events,  and  have  drawn  out  the 
persons  who  were  involved  in  Hosley's  career  by 
many  conversations.  If  this  statement  does  not 
satisfy,  then  I  have  one  that  will.  I  quote  that 
great  authority,  William  Makepeace  Thackeray, 
who  tells  us  in  Vanity  Fair  that  a  novelist  is  sup- 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      251 

posed  to  know  everything,  and  am  I  not  treating 
the  subject  as  a  novelist,  using  for  the  most  part 
fictitious  names  and  places  to  shield  from  public 
ridicule  the  good  people  whose  judgment  may 
seem  weak,  and  actions  exaggerated,  in  the  tem- 
perature of  cold  type  scanned  by  prudent,  judicial- 
minded  readers  ?  Icebergs  will  boil  under  certain 
conditions.  Human  beings,  I  find,  have  their 
solid,  liquid  and  gaseous  states.  Be  not  surprised, 
therefore,  if  Tescheron,  frigid  when  surrounded 
by  his  cracked  ice  and  cold-storage  products  at  the 
fish  market,  becomes  pliable  or  volatile  material  in 
Hoboken  under  the  heat  of  fear  and  temper,  and, 
before  cooling,  is  wrought  into  strange  shapes  by 
the  artisan,  Smith.  Poor  Tescheron!  Inno- 
cently I  made  him  pay  a  pretty  penny!  But  he 
needed  a  good  hammering. 

"Gabrielle,  are  you  really  to  be  married  against 
your  father's  wishes,  my  dear?"  asked  Mrs.  Gib- 
son, sadly,  drawing  Gabrielle  to  her.  "Could  we 
not  win  him  over  to  our  view  of  Jim?  Should 
we  not  try  ?" 

Mrs.  Gibson,  Gabrielle,  Nellie  and  Jim  were  in 
the  large  tower  sitting-room  at  the  time  of  this 
questioning.  "No,  Mrs.  Gibson";  and  Gabrielle 
was  most  serious  as  she  spoke.  "My  father  will 
in  time  come  to  admire  Jim  as  you  do;  I  know 


252      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

father  so  well.  Mother  and  I  understand  him. 
He  jumps  at  conclusions  regarding  people  for 
whom  he  has  a  dislike,  and  time  and  again  has 
acknowledged  to  me  how  he  regretted  his  haste. 
In  good  time  father  will  ask  my  forgiveness.  Not 
before  the  wedding,  though,  I  fear ;  but  I  hope  on. 
It  is  my  intention  to  proceed,  with  mother's  ap- 
proval." 

"Almost  an  elopement,"  laughed  Nellie,  ready 
for  a  wedding  as  eagerly  as  an  opposed  bride. 

"Not  quite,  though,  for  mother  will  be  there," 
smiled  Gabrielle. 

"I'll  be  there  without  these  crutches,"  said  Jim, 
dropping  his  supports  to  the  floor,  while  he  made 
an  effort  to  stump  across  the  room  and  demon- 
strate that  he  could  creep  to  the  tune  of  a  wedding 
march. 

"You'll  do,  Jim,"  said  Nellie,  as  she  took  him 
by  the  arm  to  support  him,  and  aired  the  Lohen- 
grin selection.  "You  are  just  speedy  enough  to- 
day. In  three  weeks  you  will  be  able  to  run." 

"Only  three  weeks  off!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gib- 
SOtt.  "How  the  time  passes!  We  must  hurry. 
Nellie,  go  at  once  to  the  dressmaker's  and  get  her 
positive  assurance  that  our  gowns  will  be  ready. 
And  you,  too,  have  so  much  to  do,  Gabrielle." 

"The  more  time  the  more  there  is  to  do  al- 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      253 

ways,"  said  Gabrielle.  "A  bride  is  never  quite 
ready,  but  in  three  weeks  I  am  sure  I  shall  be,  if  I 
am  not  disappointed  by  all  the  people  I  have  en- 
gaged to  help  me.  But  let  us  think  no  more  of  our 
worries.  You  have  not  told  me  what  impression 
those  two  gowns  made  that  came  last  night. 
Didn't  you  see  them?  Let  me  show  them  to 
you." 

Gabrielle  brought  out  the  gowns,  and  the  critics 
went  into  tucks,  trimmings,  opalescent  spangles, 
Malines  lace,  China-ribbed  embroidery  and  many 
other  bewildering  technicalities.  One  of  the 
dresses  was  all  white,  fashioned  out  of  net,  and  was 
ribbon-sashed,  girdled,  looped,  shirred,  tucked, 
tuck-shirred,  shirr-tucked,  fulled,  grilled,  padded, 
scrolled,  rolled,  appliqued,  tasseled,  resetted, 
knotted,  banded,  edged,  picot-edged,  ruffled, 
plaited,  bowed,  buckled,  buckle-bowed,  yoked  and 
choked  with  ribbon.  It  was  a  pretty  gown,  and 
a  hat  and  muff  built  on  the  same  style  went  with 
it.  The  hat  was  to  be  held  in  place  by  long 
streamer  ribbons — I  think  eighteen  inches  wide — 
tied  in  a  bow  to  be  knotted  over  the  left  ear,  and 
ramify  from  the  chin-dimple  to  the  crest  of  the 
hair-wave.  Eiderdown,  lightly  packed  in  a  hol- 
low cylinder  about  the  size  of  a  pint  preserving 
jar,  covered  with  ten-inch  frills  of  chiffon,  pieced 


254      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

out  with  ribbon,  wadded  neglige,  were  points  that 
made  the  muff  more  dainty  than  warm.  The 
combination  was  designed  to  be  worn  without  the 
muff  on  an  ocean  boardwalk  about  sunset,  when 
the  wind  dies  down.  Cosy  comfort  was  to  be 
supplied  by  the  muff  on  a  windy  day,  for  only  a 
real  mermaid  could  wear  a  plain  fish  net  in  all 
kinds  of  weather. 

"It's  a  most  stunning  affair!"  exclaimed  Nellie, 
admiring  with  close  scrutiny  all  the  fine  points  in 
the  shirring,  hemstitching  and  accordeon  plaiting. 

"Very  airy,  but  pretty,"  was  Mrs.  Gibson's 
view.  "What  is  it  to  be  worn  over?  Oh,  I  see; 
this  beautiful  soft  white  taffeta.  Well,  Gabrielle, 
you  will  look  a  bride  with  that  gown,  I  am  sure." 

"That  is  one  of  the  fine  things  I  have  gained  by 
delay.  If  we  had  been  married  five  weeks  ago,  I 
would  not  have  thought  of  this  gem."  And  the 
girls  laughed,  while  Jim  looked  on  in  surprised 
delight.  The  details  of  dressmaking  he  was  not 
competent  to  discuss. 

"Why  does  it  take  so  many  clothes  to  get  mar- 
ried?" asked  Jim,  evidently  not  understanding 
that  every  event  in  a  woman's  life  is  a  peg  for 
more  clothes. 

"What  a  strange  question !  How  foolish,  Jim !" 
exclaimed  the  women, 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      255 

"Don't  you  know  that  a  wedding  is  a  cere- 
monial affair,  where  all  the  grand  formalities  must 
be  observed  ?"  asked  Nellie.  "You  wouldn't  have 
us  scuffle  through  it  in  old  shoes  and  walking 
skirts,  would  you  ?" 

"Jim's  notion  of  getting  married,"  said  Gabri- 
elle,  "is  extremely  primitive.  For  my  part, 
I  like  nice  things.  I'm  so  sorry  they  do  not 
appeal  to  Jim."  Gabrielle  feigned  disappoint- 
ment 

"I  should  say  they  did  appeal  to  me,"  Jim 
hastily  assured  the  critics.  "They  are  so  surpris- 
ing!" 

"Surprising!     How  so?"  asked  Nellie. 

"Like  a  sunrise,  I  suppose,"  answered  Jim. 
"I've  never  seen  many,  but  those  who  have  rave 
over  them.  What  a  pity  the  styles  change  so 
often !  Next  year  the  net  in  that  dress  will  all  have 
to  be  taken  off  and  put  in  place  of  the  bead  trim- 
ming on  the  lamp  shades ;  the  bead  trimming  must 
then  be  sent  to  Staten  Island  and  dyed  green  to 
make  it  proper  for  hat  ornamentation,  a  necklace 
or—" 

"Amber  is  the  proper  color  for  a  necklace," 
laughed  Mrs.  Gibson.  "Nellie  cut  her  teeth  on 
amber  beads." 

Then  they  all  laughed,  and  Jim  saw  that  it  was 


256      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

good  policy  to  admire  without  attempting  to  sug- 
gest reforms. 

"And  this  silk  gauze  affair,  what  is  this?"  asked 
Nellie.  "My !  it  is  so  light  you  could  mail  it  for 
a  cent." 

"That  is  just  a  cobweb  I  fancied,"  said  Ga- 
brielle,  proudly,  as  she  gently  shook  out  the  folds 
of  a  light  creation.  "How  beautifully  it  fits  and 
yet  it  affords  such  freedom !" 

"It's  an  Empire  modification,"  remarked  Nellie, 
who  discerned  the  basic  neck-waisted  feature  of 
the     cobweb's     architecture.       "Lovely     short 
sleeves — " 
j    "Bad  for  mosquitoes,"  said  Jim. 

"Hush !"  admonished  Gabrielle.  "We  can't  re- 
strict art  to  such  limitations." 

"If  it  really  is  a  cobweb,  the  mosquitoes 
won't  go  near  it,"  said  Jim.  "Perhaps  the  de- 
signer had  that  in  mind  when  he  cut  down 
the  sleeves." 

"What  a  heavy  lace  insertion — Valenciennes,  a 
good  part  of  it,  isn't  it,  Gabrielle?"  asked  Mrs. 
Gibson.  "Why,  it's  simply  beyond  words,  I 
think." 

"Three  deep  embroidered  flounces,  and  such 
frills  and  frills  of  lace!  My!  It's  grand!"  So 
Nellie  believed  and  declared. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       257 

Jim's  imagination  was  not  fired.  "I  hope  I 
never  step  on  it,"  he  said. 

"Don't  you  dare!"  commanded  Nellie.  "This 
cobweb  is  meant  to  catch  the  eye  only — not  a 
whole  man." 

While  Jim  was  laughing1  and  attempting  to 
thrust  his  opinions  still  farther  upon  the  critics, 
they  restored  the  art  treasures  to  the  boxes  and 
placed  them  in  the  store-room,  where  the  bride's 
purchases  were  gathering  day  by  day  as  they  ar- 
rived from  the  shopping  district.  Fortunately,  the 
tower  was  larger  than  it  appears  from  Broadway, 
or  it  would  not  have  held  all  the  packages  and 
allowed  the  Gibsons  room  to  live. 

Nellie  had  forgotten  the  dressmaker,  but  now 
started,  and  Mrs.  Gibson  resumed  her  household 
duties  in  another  room. 

"Gabrielle,  you  are  making  altogether  too  much 
preparation,"  said  Jim.  "You  have  undertaken 
too  much.  With  your  regular  duties  I  can  see 
that  it  is  wearing  on  you.  Could  you  not  be 
satisfied  with  less  shopping  and  less  dressmak- 
ing?" 

"No,  Jim,  it  is  not  this  preparation  that  burdens 
me,"  she  replied,  seating  herself  at  the  side  of  her 
lame  hero. 

"Tell  me  what  it  is,  then — is  it  that  miserable 


258      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

fancied  conspiracy  against  me?  I  thought  your 
father  had  forgotten  that  now." 

"He  believes  that  you  are  gone,  and  yet  I  can 
see  that  he  knows  what  I  am  about  to  do;  at 
least  I  fear  so.  Mother  may  have  told  him,  for 
I  have  confided  in  her  everything  but  telling  her 
where  you  are.  Naturally,  Jim,  I  feel  sad  not  to 
have  my  father's  support  in  this  matter.  But  we 
shall  have  his  good-will  later  on,  I  am  sure.  In 
the  meantime  I  am  made  unhappy  by  his  present 
attitude — how  can  I  help  it?  I  know  he  is 
wrong — " 

"Gabrielle,  you  have  firmly  refused  to  tell  me 
just  what  it  is  your  father  has  against  me.  Time 
and  again  I  have  asked,  but  I  cannot  learn,  and 
of  course  I  cannot  imagine  what  his  flight  to 
Hoboken  was  for.  He  charges  me  with  some 
crime — but  in  heaven's  name,  what  crime?  Come, 
Gabrielle,  do  tell  me  now,  won't  you?" 

"Jim,  have  I  not  always  told  you  in  reply  to 
your  questioning  that  the  charges  made  against 
you  by  my  poor,  misguided  father  and  Mr.  Hop- 
kins are  too  absurd  to  repeat?  If  I  should  tell 
you  now,  it  would  only  prove  my  father  to  be  a 
hot-headed  man,  one  who  is  so  easily  misled  by 
those  who  arouse  his  fears.  Let  it  all  rest  with 
my  statement  that  his  position  is  taken  because 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      259 

of  those  absurd  conclusions.  Then  it  will  not  be 
necessary  for  me  to  make  my  dear  father  appear 
ridiculous." 

"I  shan't  think  that,"  said  Jim,  softly.  It  ap- 
peared that  he  could  say  or  do  nothing  to  extricate 
himself  from  the  work  of  the  plotters,  whose 
shadows  disappeared  as  he  drew  nigh.  "But  if 
you  would  only  give  me,  the  accused,  a  chance 
to  make  a  defense,  I  could  incidentally  prove  Hop- 
kins innocent  and  have  him  at  our  wedding.  That 
I  should  like  to  do.  It  pains  me  more  than  I  can 
tell  to  ignore  that  poor  chap.  I  often  wonder 
where  he  is,  and  think  myself  a  coward  and  an 
inhuman  scoundrel  not  to  make  an  effort  to  find 
him." 

"Why  do  you  bother  about  him,  Jim?  Didn't 
the  nurse  hurry  us  from  the  hospital  that  day  be- 
cause she  said  Mr.  Hopkins  had  told  her  you 
were  a  rogue?  Don't  you  see  that  both  father 
and  he  have  been  impressed  by  the  story  of  those 
villainous  detectives,  who  would  do  anything  for 
money?" 

"Well,  Gabrielle,  tell  me  what  those  detectives 
have  told  your  father  about  me.  He  has  told  you, 
has  he  not?  Have  these  charges  raised  no  sus- 
picion in  your  mind  against  me?  Are  you  not 
anxious  to  question  me  ?  How  proud,  then,  I  am 


260       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

to  have  won  the  heart  of  such  a  grand  little 
woman !" 

Before  he  could  wait  for  replies  to  his  questions 
the  burly  invalid  clutched  his  chair,  rose  to  his 
feet  and  stretching  out  his  arms  gathered  up  his 
treasure  of  loyalty  and  fondly  caressed  her.  "How 
fortunate  for  me,"  he  continued,  "that  your  heart 
has  not  been  poisoned  against  me !  How  priceless 
this  love  of  yours !  for  without  it  I  should  not  be 
saved.  Let  the  whole  world  forsake  me,  and  you 
remain  true,  what  care  I?  Gabrielle,  you  have 
guarded  me  like  an  angel." 

Jim  could  say  no  more.  He  choked  and  could 
not  go  on.  Was  sincerity  to  be  doubted  when  so 
emphasized?  Could  there  be  aught  of  guile  in 
that  embrace? 

"Jim,  I  have  never  doubted  you — I  never  could 
doubt  you,  for  do  I  not  know  your  heart  as  you 
know  mine  ?"  assured  Gabrielle,  meeting  his  frank 
eyes  steadily  with  hers.  "You  are  my  plain  hero, 
untrumpeted,  except  by  all  your  friends  who  have 
known  you  here  for  years.  Never  ask  me  again 
of  the  base  charges  father  has  listened  to.  I  trust 
my  love,  which  I  see  -answered  in  those  boyish 
eyes — in  every  kind  word  and  act.  Jim,  I  love 
you  and  we  shall  be  married;  we  shall  plan  our 
own  life  in  the  light  of  this  love,  and  doing  that 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      261 

we  have  naught  to  fear.  We  shall  welcome  true 
friends,  who  will  be  loyal  to  us  because  we  are 
loyal  to  our  own  ideals,  and  so  father  shall  be 
won  to  us,  and  Mr.  Hopkins  may  turn  toward  us 
again.  Our  troubles  are  largely  our  fears,  Mr. 
MacDonald  says,  and  I  believe  him.  How  fool- 
ish to  fear  when  we  may  enjoy  repose  through 
faith  and  love !" 

"Gabrielle,  my  darling,  you  will  never  again  be 
questioned  by  me.  So  long  as  you  have  faith,  let 
the  rest  of  the  world  go  hang !  Poor  Ben  Hop- 
kins, I  would  like  to  see  him,  though." 

I  give  no  notice  here  as  to  when  the  embrace 
released.  It  is  quite  possible  that  it  continued 
until  late  in  the  afternoon,  with  hand-holding  mod- 
ifications, when  Nellie  returned  and  sang  loudly 
in  another  room  for  warning  and  company.  The 
fleeting  hours  that  the  happy  pair  looked  out  from 
one  of  those  magic  windows  are  not  to  be  recorded 
in  detail.  A  lover's  log-book  is  unknown.  The 
fears  and  conspiracies  that  might  have  harassed 
them  found  no  leverage  of  doubt  to  pry  an  en- 
trance into  Gabrielle's  heart.  Every  wave  of  the 
higher  air  wafted  from  Trinity's  steeple,  brought 
them  the  joy  of  marriage  bells.  Even  without 
a  lame  leg,  Jim  would  never  have  thought  of  run- 
ning away  from  that  place. 


262       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

The  wedding  was  to  take  place  in  the  afternoon 
of  Wednesday,  only  three  weeks  off.  Mr.  Tesch- 
eron  was  to  be  notified  in  due  time  that  it  would 
be  held  at  the  Episcopal  church  to  which  the  fam- 
ily belonged.  That  part  of  the  ceremony  calling 
for  the  giving  away  of  the  bride  would  be  omitted. 
Only  a  few  relatives  and  dear  friends  would  be 
present,  and  they  would  understand  Gabrielle's 
purpose  to  marry  the  man  -of  her  choice.  The 
affair  would  be  clouded  with  sadness,  they  all  be- 
lieved (except  Jim)  ;  but  Gabrielle  was  determined 
not  to  hide  the  opposition  of  her  father.  She  was 
determined  to  have  her  wedding  about  as  she  had 
planned  from  childhood  in  the  little  church  she 
loved,  and  up  to  the  very  minute  of  the  fixed  hour 
she  would  hope  and  pray  to  have  her  father  there 
full  of  repentance  and  forgiveness.  Mr.  Tesch- 
eron  was  to  be  told  by  her  one  week  prior  to  the 
wedding.  Thus  he  was  to  be  given  one  week 
alone  with  his  conscience  to  settle  the  question 
whether  he  should  accept  an  invitation  to  his 
daughter's  wedding.  More  than  a  week's  notice, 
Gabrielle  believed,  would  inflict  unnecessary  cruel- 
ty and  less  than  a  week  grant  hardly  enough  time 
for  him  to  retrace  his  steps. 

Mrs.  Tescheron,  poor  soul,  spent  many  hours 
in  tears,  her  faith  and  pride  in  her  daughter  sus- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       263 

taining  her  through  the  hours  of  preparation. 
The  day  of  the  wedding  she  dreaded,  and  she 
doubted  if  she  would  bear  up  when  the  climax  of 
the  strain  came.  Firmness  prompted  by  kind- 
ness, the  wife  and  mother  understood  to  be  neces- 
sary in  dealing  with  the  irascible  head  of  the  fam- 
ily, and  she  therefore  quietly  acquiesced  in  this 
policy  when  administered  by  their  only  criifd.  She 
had  never  been  able  to  successfully  make  ner  will 
dominant  in  the  household  on  that  principle,  per- 
haps because  she  had  begun  by  surrendering  to 
him  the  first  few  times  he  was  mastered  by  his 
temper  in  the  early  days  of  married  life,  like  most 
wives  do  surrender.  The  baby  is  generally  much 
better  brought  up  in  the  family  than  ttie  father. 
My  observation  as  a  bachelor  teaches  me  that 
every  wife  should  take  a  husband  in  Hand  like  a 
child — coddle  him,  keep  him  in  after  dark,  put 
him  to  bed  very  early  full  of  Hot  gruel  when  he 
sneezes  or  falls  asleep  after  dinner;  if  he  com- 
plains of  a  draught  give  him  a  steaming  foot-bath 
and  one  or  two  mustard  plasters,  those  gentle  love- 
taps  of  family  life,  that  lingeringly  long  tell  of 
devotion;  and  when  he  has  any  inclination  to  do 
anything  except  smile,  pounce  upon  him  and 
trundle  him  into  some  sort  of  medicated  misery, 
tenderly  but  firmly. 


264      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

I  could  name  a  dozen  good  husbands,  men  of 
eagle  eye  in  the  market  place,  who  stand  pat  in 
good  nature  at  home,  because  their  wives  make 
little  or  no  discrimination  between  the  babies  and 
their  papa.  Mrs.  Tescheron  was  fortunate  in  her 
daughter,  however,  and  in  later  years  was  relieved 
as  the  child  grew  to  lead  them.  The  mother  de- 
termined with  as  much  strength  of  purpose  as  she 
could  summon,  to  rely  upon  Gabrielle  to  find  the 
way  out  in  this  emergency,  as  the  daughter  had  in 
all  others. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  day  Mr.  Tescheron  was  to  receive  noti- 
fication of  the  wedding-  in  his  immediate 
family  came  so  quickly  the  announcement 
could  not  be  made  in  the  morning.  Gabrielle 
needed  the  day  to  prepare,  for  while  she  was 
brave,  the  meeting  with  her  father  must  bring 
tears  of  disappointment.  Perhaps  the  glowering 
skies  made  postponement  easy.  Better  the  night 
for  sorrow,  thought  she",  and  then  hurried  down- 
town, her  hands  full  of  small  packages  containing 
bits  of  finery  not  available  to  enter  into  the  orna- 
mentation of  the  dressmaker's  conceptions  in  silk 
and  lace.  These  must  be  exchanged  for  t)ther 
shades,  and  the  light  of  a  cloudy  day  was  not 
suitable  for  matching  colors;  her  feminine  mind 
turned  to  the  more  important  details  of  prepara- 
tion. 

As  she  entered  the  office  her  thoughts  were 
wholly  away  from  the  law  of  her  country  and 
its  business  operations.  The  gowns  that  were  to 

265 


266       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

be  fitted  and  the  untrimmed  hats  loomed  larger 
than  the  intricate  questions  in  various  states  of 
litigation  that  came  under  her  supervision.  In  a 
week  she  was  to  pass  from  this  realm  of  worldly 
detail,  an3  would  assume  the  larger  role  of  wife, 
better  equipped  by  freedom  and  the  good  uses  she 
ha3  made  of  its  opportunities.  Still  the  hats  and 
gowns  must  not  be  ignored  by  any  high-flown 
philosophy.  She  was  about  to  hitch  her  wagon 
to  a  star,  to  be  a  whole  woman,  the  head  of  a 
home  and  all  that ;  but  what  would  we  think  even 
of  the  president  of  Sorosis  if  she  appeared  in  last 
year's  sleeves? 

Among  her  letters  that  morning,  Gabrielle 
found  one  from  Hygeia,  and  regretted  that  she 
must  place  it  with  her  packages  as  soon  as  she 
glanced  at  tKe  name,  for  there  was  no  time  to  read 
it  then ;  perhaps  in  a  car  she  would  find  the  time. 
Letters  written  at  leisure  in  the  country  and  read 
in  the  crowded  city  cars  lose  their  native  sweet- 
ness. Such  as  I  have  ever  received  from  there 
must  be  opened  tenderly  and  read  slowly  far  from 
the  throng. 

By  one  o'clock  the  mills  of  Justice  ceased  to 
claim  the  attention  of  Gabrielle.  Two  hours  were 
spent  in  the  stores,  every  minute  consumed  in  the 
closest  study  of  fabrics,  miles  of  floor-walking  and 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      267 

volumes  of  questioning — all  composing  the  art 
and  science  of  shopping,  the  one  sphere  in  which 
woman  can  carry  the  weight  of  a  fur  cloak  and 
do  a  hundred-yard  dash  or  a  mile  run  to  the  most 
distant  department,  while  her  man  companion 
takes  his  coat  off  and  worms  his  way  twenty  feet 
to  the  necktie  counter,  which  is  always  found  op- 
posite the  main  entrance.  Ten  feet  farther  in,  it 
would  fail.  Gabrielle  shopped  with  system,  to 
save  time,  and  then  used  the  time  she  saved  to 
shop  some  more. 

Not  long  after  three  o'clock  on  that  memorable 
Wednesday,  Mrs.  Gibson,  Nellie  and  Gabrielle 
gathered  around  the  enthroned  Jim  in  his  castle 
retreat  to  talk  it  all  over  again  for  the  thousandth 
time. 

"The  wedding  ring  fitted  the  first  time  we  tried 
it,  and  so  do  all  my  clothes,  ties,  gloves  and  hats," 
said  Jim,  with  a  smile  intended  to  aggravate  ar- 
gument. "It  is  no  trouble  at  all  for  me  to  get 
married." 

"You're  not  original,  though,"  laughed  Nellie. 
"Originality,  you  know,  takes  time,  thought  and 
effort.  Gabrielle  will  outshine  you.'* 

"Of  course,  she  will,"  said  Jim — "if  there  is 
anything  left  of  the  poor  girl  to  wear  these 
things." 


268      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"Oh,  don't  fear  that,  Jim,"  Gabrielle  advised. 
"This  is  great  fun." 

"The  stores  always  seem  to  be  filled  with 
women,"  remarked  Jim.  "Are  they  all  about  to 
get  married,  I  wonder?" 

"Those  who  go  the  earliest  and  stay  the  longest 
are  women  who  are  getting  ready  for  the  fourth 
trip,"  said  Mr.  Gibson,  the  jolly  father,  whose 
grim  face  belied  his  heart.  He  had  entered  in 
time  to  catch  Jim's  query.  "It's  a  case  of  accel- 
erated motion,"  he  added. 

The  girls  laughed  and  chided  him  for  his  wan- 
tonly cruel  words.  They  chatted  along  merrily 
for  an  hour,  first  about  this  trifle  and  then  that, 
completely  under  the  influence  of  the  glorious 
event,  without  one  thought  being  given  to  the 
cloud,  as  big  as  a  postman's  hand,  among  Gabri- 
elle's  packages,  for  they  did  not  see  it  there. 

The  happy  prospective  bridegroom,  who  had 
escaped  the  dire  fate  the  letters  threatened  to 
throw  across  his  path  by  dodging  beneath  the 
quilts  at  the  hospital,  was  now  full  of  the  heroism 
that  thrives  in  peace.  The  calamity  which  seemed 
prepared  to  fall  upon  him  in  the  hour  of  his  great- 
est happiness,  Fate  had  tossed  aside,  and  his  star 
combination  proved  to  be  intact  and  in  good  work- 
ing order.  Trouble  had  gathered  near  in  murky 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       269 

concentration  for  a  few  minutes  that  anxious  day, 
but  when  Hygeia  passed  out  of  the  door  of  his 
room  to  answer  my  bell,  the  knight  stood  forth 
with  visor  up,  resumed  his  normal  color,  and 
gradually  his  power  of  speech.  Those  old  bread- 
crumbs cast  upon  the  waters  of  love  years  be- 
fore had  washed  ashore  at  a  most  untimely  mo- 
ment, thought  he;  but  the  audience  had  not 
reached  the  end  to  ponder  on  the  writer's  name. 
A  miss  was  as  good  as  a  mile  in  slipping  between 
the  cup  and  the  lip. 

But  the  course  of  true  love  is  a  rugged  path  to 
the  close  of  the  ceremony ;  beyond,  it  is  still  more 
rugged,  and  the  surrounding  country,  tfiey  say,  is 
often  wild  and  desolate,  and  quite  unlike  the  park 
gardening  and  its  beckoning  vistas  to  be  seen 
along  Lovers'  Lane  before  the  turn  in  the  road  at 
the  altar. 

A  cloud  no  larger  than  the  tiny  mist  from  the 
whistle  of  one  of  those  tooting  tugs  familiar  in 
the  harbor  scene  was  gathering  while  the  sun 
shone  so  brightly  in  the  tower  apartment.  An 
electric  shock  will  gather  and  burst  a  cloud  large 
enough  to  bring  midnight  and  deluge  at  noonday. 
Mr.  Gibson  understood  the  importance  of  light- 
ning arresters,  but  was  not  prepared  to  apply  them 
in  his  home.  The  women  could  do  nothing ;  and, 


270       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

of  course,  I,  the  only  person  in  the  world  who 
might  have  transformed  the  current  to  a  harmless 
voltage,  had  been  shunned  as  an  enemy. 

Then  came  the  lull  before  the  hurricane — the 
soft  whispering  of  the  wind  in  the  tree-tops.  Jim 
alone  could  see  the  havoc  it  raised  along  the 
mountain  ridge,  foretelling  by  a  few  minutes  the 
arrival  of  the  twisting  and  wrenching  blast. 

"Oh,  Nellie,  you  remember  my  telling  about  the 
gushy  love-letters  the  nurse  read  to  us  at  the  hos- 
pital, for  our  entertainment.  Well,  here,  please 
take  this ;  she  has  sent  another,  which  I  see  by  a 
glance  is  quite  as  good  as  the  rest.  Would  you 
mind  reading  it  aloud?  and  then  I  ask  you  all  to 
excuse  me  while  I  snatch  a  moment  to  read  her 
long  letter." 

In  this  way,  Gabrielle  believed  she  would  solve 
the  problem  of  time,  that  had  been  so  limited  that 
busy  day. 

"Why,  certainly ;  let  us  have  the  pleasure,  and 
go  ahead  with  your  reading."  Nellie  was  always 
ready  to  entertain  the  company. 

But  Gabrielle  did  not  advance  more  than  a  few 
lines  with  Hygeia's  accompanying  letter.  The  Gib- 
son family  were  so  delighted  with  Nellie's  reading 
of  my  celebrated  collaboration  with  Lord  Byron, 
constructed  by  the  drip  of  my  pen  welding  some 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       271 

of  the  choicest  gems  of  the  inspired  poet  to  bring 
together  the  hearts  of  Jim  and  that  fair  Margaret, 
it  was  quite  out  of  the  question  for  Gabrielle  to 
withdraw  from  the  fun.  She  became  as  attentive 
as  the  other  auditors  and  added  her  applause  to 
sustain  the  clever  elocutionist.  Comment  flowed 
freely  from  all  except  Jim  at  nearly  every  inter- 
ruption. 

"Father,  this  is  supposed  to  be  the  proper  way 
to  make  love,"  said  Nellie,  and  she  began  to  read : 

"  'My  Darling  Margaret : 

"  'Your  letter  of  this  morning  bids  me  with 
many  playful  thrusts  to  be  more  hopeful  during 
your  absence,  which  you  say  will  be  brief  in  one 
paragraph  and  in  another  that  it  will  be  "about 
three  months."  How  is  it  possible  for  me  to 
reconcile  these  statements?  Three  months  may 
be  an  eternity.  The  criminal  bound  and  held  be- 
neath the  spigot,  from  which  water,  drop  by  drop, 
pounds  with  thundering  impact  upon  his  hot  head, 
and  the  idlers  in  sylvan  dells,  view  time  differ- 
ently. Your  advice,  though,  shall  be  taken  and 
followed  with  such  will  as  I  am  able  to  command. 
Weakness,  backsliding  from  my  purpose  to  be  as 
cheerful  as  you  wish,  you  must  forgive.  If  you 
would  have  me  display  an  even  interest  in  life,  un- 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

disturbed  by  the  moaning  which  creeps  into  these 
letters,  you  know  the  sure,  swift  course  to  take — 
the  fastest  express  train  to  New  York,  and  a  tele- 
gram summoning  me  to  the  depot — that  is  all. 

"  Tor  the  past  two  nights  my  sleep  has  been 
blessed  with  visions  more  lovely  and  hope  inspir- 
ing. Fear  has  been  driven  away,  to  give  place 
to  fairer  thoughts  of  you.  Not  to  dream  of  you 
crowded  the  hours  of  absence  too  heavily  upon 
me.  Henceforth  I  am  determined  that  you  shall 
be  with  me  in  my  thoughts,  tenderly  ministering 
to  me  with  those  eyes  whose  soft  light  I  would 
have  my  steady  beacons.  Darling  Margaret,  their 
flickering,  or  the  fear  that  they  will  flicker,  sets 
me  almost  crazy. 

"  'Thy  form  appears  through  night,  through  day : 

Awake,  with  it  my  fancy  teems ; 

In  sleep,  it  smiles  in  fleeting  dreams — 
The  vision  charms  the  hours  away, 
And  bids  me  curse  Aurora's  ray, 
For  breaking  slumbers  of  delight, 
Which  make  me  wish  for  endless  night ; 
Since,  oh !  whate'er  my  future  fate, 
Shall  joy  or  woe  my  steps  await, 
Tempted  by  love,  by  storms  beset, 
iThine  image  I  can  ne'er  forget.' ' 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      273 

"He  pursued  her  hard,"  interrupted  Mr.  Gib- 
son. "I  can  remember  when  I  used  to  feel  that 
way  about  girls,  but  I  couldn't  put  it  on  paper." 

''Indeed!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Gibson.  "What 
you  put  on  paper  would  never  compromise  you. 
The  name  of  the  man  who  wrote  the  letter,  you 
understand,  father,  is  not  known,  and  neither  do 
we  know  the  woman.  Still,  I  hardly  think  it  can 
be  one  of  yours,  so  I  shan't  worry.  Go  on,  Nellie." 

Nellie  had  observed  as  she  paused  in  her  read- 
ing and  glanced  upward,  that  Jim  seemed  much 
disturbed.  He  was  very  red  and  his  eyes  seemed 
to  be  afire.  But  Gabrielle  did  not  give  any  of 
her  attention  to  Jim,  and  Nellie  was  too  busy  with 
her  task  of  deciphering  my  wretched  manuscript 
to  interject  a  gay  remark  at  Jim's  expense.  Jim 
moistened  his  lips,  wiped  his  beading  brow,  and 
nerved  himself  for  the  worst.  There  were  now 
no  quilts  for  him  to  dodge  under,  and  no  acute 
pain  to  serve  as  a  standing  account  against  which 
he  might  charge  these  evidences  of  the  anguish  he 
could  not  conceal. 

Nellie  continued,  and  Gabrielle  forgot  all  about 
Hygeia's  letter.  This  I  think  flattering  to  my 
style. 

"Listen  1"  commanded  Nellie,  and  again  she 
read: 


274       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"  'Yes,  my  darling,  dreaming  always  of  you, 
night  and  day,  surely,  surely,  hope  should  inspire 
me.  This  is  the  place  and  now  the  time  to  wan- 
der in  love's  enchanted  realm.  I  shall  not  put 
off  till  your  home-coming  the  joys  I  would  experi- 
ence. Let  my  "heart  be  a  spirit,"  and  then  I  may 
be  wafted  to  your  side  this  minute  and  sit  beside 
you  from  early  morn  till  twilight  and  the  even- 
song of  birds  softly  and  sweetly  hint  the  flight  of 
time.  Yes — 

"  'He  who  hath  loved  not,  here  would  learn  that 
love, 

And  make  his  heart  a  spirit ;  he  who  knows 
That  tender  mystery,  will  love  the  more : 

For  this  is  Love's  recess,  where  vain  men's  woes, 

And  the  world's  waste,  have  driven  him  far 

from  those — 
For  'tis  his  nature  to  advance  or  die; 

He  stands  not  still,  but  or  decays,  or  grows 
Into  a  boundless  blessing,  which  may  vie 
With  the  immortal  lights  in  its  eternity!' 

"  'And  now,  my  darling,  I  must  not  forget  to 
remind  you  that  you  have  quite  overlooked  my 
request  for  a  lock  of  your  golden  hair.  You  ac- 
knowledged the  receipt  of  mine,  and  asked  why 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       275 

I  did  not  tie  it  in  a  pretty  ribbon  instead  of  a  piece 
of  cotton  thread.' ' 

"There  is  the  lock  of  hair  again!"  exclaimed 
Gabrielle.  "I  saw  it  in  the  other  letter  when  Jim 
was  at  the  hospital.  It  was  a  trifle  lighter  than 
his.  The  poor  girl — I  suppose  she  thought  it  more 
precious  than  strands  of  pure  gold." 

"Hair  has  a  lot  to  do  with  love,  Gabrielle," 
whispered  Mr.  Gibson.  "Think  what  an  uphill 
job  it  would  have  been  for  Jim  with  a  bald  head." 

"Never  could  have  done  it,"  said  Jim,  huskily, 
determined  to  break  in  somewhere  on  a  long 
chance  that  the  letter  would  blow  out  to  sea  or 
the  Produce  Exchange  tower  topple  over. 

"  'Haste,  my  sweetheart,'  "  continued  Nellie, 
"  'is  my  excuse — haste  which  wholly  disregards 
the  trifling  detail ;  but  I  see  my  error  now  and  en- 
close a  yard  of  blue  ribbon  to  be  converted  by 
your  deft  hands  into  a  tight  bow-knot  where  the 
unpoetic  cotton  now  binds  the  clipped  token  of 
my  love.  I  pray  there  may  be  enough  left  to 
gather  a  generous  lock  of  the  golden  tresses  for 
which  I  yearn.  You  will  not  withhold  them,  will 
you,  Margaret?  What  sweet  thoughts  proceed 
from  memory's  strongholds: 


276      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

"  'Can  I  forget — canst  thou  forget, 

When  playing  with  thy  golden  hair, 
How  quickly  thy  fluttering  heart  did  move? 
Oh,  by  my  soul,  I  see  thee  yet, 

With  eyes  so  languid,  breast  so  fair, 
And  lips,  though  silent,  breathing  love. 

"  'When  thus  reclining  on  my  breast, 

Those  eyes  threw  back  a  glance  so  sweet, 
As  half  reproached,  yet  raised  desire, 
And  still  we  near  and  nearer  prest, 

And  still  our  glowing  lips  would  meet, 
As  if  in  kisses  to  expire. 

"  'And  then  those  pensive  eyes  would  close, 
And  bid  their  lids  each  other  seek, 
Veiling  the  azure  orbs  below, 
While  their  long  lashes'  darken'd  gloss 

Seemed  stealing  o'er  thy  brilliant  cheekf 
Like  raven's  plumage  smoothed  on  snow.' 

"  'While  it  may  be  true  that  absence  makes  the 
heart  grow  fonder,  there  are  limitations,  believe 
me,  to  man's  endurance.  Three  months  will  find 
me  worn  to  a  scant  shadow,  a  mere  tissue,  so 
sharp  that  the  dial  at  noonday  cannot  point  with 
finer  finger  the  passage  of  the  sun  under  the 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

meridian  wire.  Only  the  first  month  is  now 
waning,  and  I  dare  not  look  a  weighing  machine 
in  the  face,  for  fear  I  might  fall  in  the  slot.  I 
am  not  facetious,  believe  me,  Margaret. 

"  'Fear  underlies  my  woe.  Annoying  images, 
at  first  vague,  gather  strength  of  outline  and  haunt 
me  like  evil  prophecies.  Of  course,  there  is 
naught  but  fear  to  account  for  these  distressing 
delusions,  but  is  it  not  as  real  when  it  wounds 
as  the  dagger's  point  ?  How  shall  we  banish  the 
terrors  that  arise  in  lonely  hours?  In  writing  to 
you  these  thoughts  as  they  flow  from  the  deep 
reservoirs  of  my  soul,  through  the  conduit  of 
pen,  in  inky  tracings  on  this  fair  page,  my  sweet- 
est hours  are  spent.  Here  is  an  outlet  that  reduces 
in  some  measure  the  roaring  flood-waters,  as 
strength  abides  to  perform  the  necessary  physical 
evolutions  till  repose  comes  o'er  me;  then  I  slip 
into  the  Land  of  Nod  through  a  lane  of  sweet 
magnolias,  and  approach  the  rose-bedecked  gates 
garlanded  as  if  for  the  entry  of  a  prince  and  his 
bride.  You  are  with  me  then,  and  as  the  cheering 
populace  greets  us,  a  herald  stands  forth  and  ad- 
dresses you  thus : 

"  'She  walks  in  beauty,  like  the  night 

Of  cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies; 


278       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

And  all  that's  best  of  dark  and  bright 
Meet  in  her  aspect  and  her  eyes, 

Thus  mellowed  to  the  tender  light 
Which  Heaven  to  gaudy  day  denies. 

"  'And  on  that  cheek,  and  o'er  that  brow, 

So  soft,  so  calm,  yet  eloquent, 
The  smiles  that  win,  the  tints  that  glow, 

But  tell  of  days  in  goodness  spent, 
A  mind  at  peace  with  all  below, 
A  heart  whose  love  is  innocent.' ' 

"My!  but  he  puts  it  on  thick,"  gasped  Nellie, 
pausing  for  breath. 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  said  her  father;  "impossible  to 
mix  it  too  thick." 

"What  would  he  have  done  without  Lord  By- 
ron?" asked  Mrs.  Gibson,  who  gave  me  scant 
credit,  apparently. 

"Well,  Byron  wouldn't  mind,"  said  Gabrielle, 
smiling.  "He  would  be  glad  to  help  the  cause 
along.  The  lover  is  strengthening  his  persuasion 
with  good  poetry." 

Nellie  read  more  rapidly  now,  for  she  had 
learned  many  of  my  pen  oddities : 

"  'What  a  worldly  fellow  I  was  till  your  eyes 
met  mine  and  brought  me  far,  far  up  from  the 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      279 

depths  to  the  heights  of  contemplation.  My  phi- 
losophy was  naught.  I  saw  not  the  beauty  of  life, 
for  I  was  lost  in  a  wilderness  of  its  petty  distrac- 
tions. Remembering  our  happy  days  together, 
why  should  their  inspiration  not  sustain  me  now  ? 
At  the  time  of  parting — 

"  'I  saw  thee  weep — the  big  bright  tear 

Came  o'er  that  eye  of  blue, 
And  then  methought  it  did  appear 

A  violet  dropping  dew ; 
I  saw  thee  smile — the  sapphire  blaze 

Beside  thee  ceased  to  shine ; 
It  could  not  match  the  living  rays 

That  filled  that  glance  of  thine.' 

"  'The  feeling  so  tenderly  expressed  in  that  tear 
preceding  the  smile  holds  me  in  thrall  when  I  bid 
fear  depart  and  wake  no  more  the  ogres  of  its 
dread.  Let  me  rather  fondle  that  cherished  smile, 

"  'As  clouds  from  yonder  sun  receive 

A  deep  and  mellow  dye, 
Which  scarce  the  shade  of  coming  eve 

Can  banish  from  the  sky; 
Those  smiles,  into  the  moodiest  mind, 

Their  own  pure  joys  impart ; 
Their  sunshine  leaves  a  glow  behind 

That  lightens  o'er  the  heart,'  " 


280       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

Would  luck  ever  come  ?  Would  it  ever  come  ? 
What  would  be  the  outcome?  Jim  tried  to  plan 
for  the  approaching  emergency,  but  the  best  he 
could  do  was  to  struggle  to  conceal  the  acute  case 
of  chills  and  fever  then  torturing  his  weak  body 
and  adding  confusion  to  his  dazed  mind.  The 
reader  proceeded : 

"  'All  the  deep  feelings  of  the  lover  have  been 
experienced  by  the  poets,  and  to  them  we  must 
turn  to  find  words  attuned  to  the  harmonies  sur- 
ging within,  clamoring  for  expression,  where  pas- 
sion has  just  been  born.  These  gifted  singers 
have  searched  the  human  heart  as  only  genius  can 
and  have  given  their  songs  as  a  universal  heritage 
to  all  who  feel  the  melting  murmurs.  If  there  is 
aught  of  inspiration  in  their  words,  it  belongs  to 
me  as  the  harper's  music  belonged  to  Byron  when 
he  craved  it : 

"  'My  soul  is  dark — oh !  quickly  string 

The  harp  I  yet  can  brook  to  hear ; 
And  let  thy  gentle  fingers  fling 

Its  melting  murmurs  o'er  mine  ear. 
If  in  this  heart  a  hope  be  dear, 

That  sound  shall  charm  it  forth  again ; 
If  in  those  eyes  there  lurk  a  tear, 

'Twill  flow  and  cease  to  burn  my  brain/ 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      281 

"  'And  how  natural,  Margaret,  it  is  for  the 
man  steeped  in  love  as  I  am  to  search  out  consola- 
tion amid  the  sweet  concord  of  poetry.  And  so 
seeking1  the  thought  attuned  to  mine,  I  also  say : 

"  'But  let  the  strain  be  wild  and  deep, 

Nor  let  the  notes  of  joy  be  first ; 
I  tell  thee,  minstrel,  I  must  weep, 

Or  else  this  heavy  heart  will  burst; 
For  it  hath  been  by  sorrow  nursed, 

And  ached  in  sleepless  silence  long; 
And  now  'tis  doomed  to  know  the  worst 

And  break  at  once — or  yield  to  song.' 

"  'My  writing  is  usually  over  at  midnight,  and 
when  I  have  returned  from  the  corner,  where  I 
post  the  letter,  I  sit  me  down  in  the  darkness  to 
ponder  on  what  I  have  composed.  How  dull  it 
seems  to  me  then;  how  poorly  expressed  these 
sentiments  too  deep  for  words  of  mine,  and  not 
always  within  range  of  such  poetry  as  I  can  find ! 
Moods  are  so  fleeting,  too;  some  tender  thought 
passes  over  me  and  for  a  moment  I  am  lost  in 
the  rare  atmosphere  of  mountain-tops  to  which  it 
summons  me.  When  I  come  to  tell  of  this  magic 
wrought  by  your  innocent  witchery,  I  find  it  quite 
impossible  to  explain,  as  the  essence  of  my  heavenly 


282      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

flight  is  all  so  poetic  and  strange  a  mere  mortal  like 
myself  cannot  interpret  the  feeling.  It  surely  can- 
not be  that  all  men  who  love  are  so  entranced.  It 
must  be  that  within  the  circle  of  your  enchanting 
power  a  superior  charm  prevails : 

"  'There  be  none  of  Beauty's  daughters 

With  a  magic  like  thee; 
And  like  music  on  the  waters, 

Is  thy  sweet  voice  to  me ; 
When,  as  if  its  sound  were  causing 
The  charmed  ocean's  pausing, 
The  waves  lie  still  and  gleaming, 
And  the  lull'd  winds  seem  dreaming. 

"  'The  moon  is  your  partner  in  this  mysterious 
midnight  revel,  Margaret : 

"  'And  the  midnight  moon  is  weaving 

Her  bright  chain  o'er  the  deep, 
Whose  breast  is  gently  heaving, 

As  an  infant's  asleep; 
So  the  spirit  bows  before  thee, 
To  listen  and  adore  thee, 
With  a  full  but  soft  emotion, 
Like  the  swell  of  Summer's  ocean.' 

'  'How  wise,  after  all,  your  advice  to  be  hope- 
ful !    The  sweetest  moments  of  our  lives  are  pass- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       283 

ing  now  while  we  are  wrapped  in  our  devotion  to 
each  other.     All  sounds  are  sweet — 

"  '  Tis  sweet  to  hear 

At  midnight  on  the  blue  moonlit  deep, 
The  song  and  oar  of  Adria's  gondolier, 

By  distance  mellowed  o'er  the  water's  sweep. 
'Tis  sweet  to  see  the  evening  star  appear ; 

'Tis  sweet  to  listen  to  the  night  winds  creep 
From  leaf  to  leaf ;  'tis  sweet  to  view  on  high 
The  rainbow,  based  on  ocean,  span  the  sky.' ' 

Gabrielle  now  took  up  Hygeia's  letter  again. 
The  rainbow  of  hope  based  on  ocean  seemed  to 
Jim  to  be  disappearing  beneath  its  watery  founda- 
tion. If  Obreeon  had  appeared  and  offered  to  re- 
move those  letters  at  that  point,  he  might  have 
doubled  the  price,  and  Jim  would  have  paid  it 
gladly. 

But  the  reader  did  not  stop. 

"  'Of  course,  I  am  interested,' "  read  Nellie, 
"  'in  your  daily  doings  in  the  country,  so  do  not 
chide  me  for  not  asking  more  questions.  I  should 
like  to  know  the  number  of  cows  your  Uncle  Reu- 
ben keeps,  and  if  the  cheese  factory  is  running  on 
full  time.  These  items  savor  of  rural  thrift,  and 


284       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

as  the  farmer  is  the  backbone  of  the  country,  I 
would  not  eliminate  him — scratch  him  as  it  were 
— from  our  worldly  calculations.  The  cows,  the 
cheese  factory  and  Uncle  Reuben,  however,  stand 
in  the  dim  background  fading  into  the  hazy  purple 
of  the  tree-lined  brook,  as  I  think  of  you,  my  May 
Queen,  laughing,  in  the  center  of  the  picture. 
When  I  correspond  with  Uncle  Reuben  it  will  be 
by  telegram  at  my  end  of  the  line. 

"  'Before  I  close  to-night  I  must  again  assure 
you  that  a  happier  view  of  the  outlook  for  the 
coming  two  months  will  be  taken.  Your  happi- 
ness must  be  mine: 

"  '.Well !  thou  art  happy,  and  I  feel 

That  I  should  thus  be  happy,  too; 
For  still  my  heart  regards  thy  weal 
.Warmly—' " 

"Stop,  Nellie !  James  Hosley,  you  wrote  that 
letter !  Do  you  deny  it  ?" 

Gabrielle  Tescheron  crumpled  Hygeia's  note  in 
her  clenched  hand  as  she  said  that,  and  arose, 
fastening  her  steady  eyes  on  the  crouching  form 
of  the  cripple,  who  appeared  to  cringe  under  the 
blast  of  the  storm.  He  had  tried  to  be  prepared, 
but  he  failed  utterly  when  he  attempted  to  speak. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       285 

He  was  seen  to  raise  his  hand  and  elevate  his 
eyebrows,  but  now  words  were  impossible;  a  low 
murmur  and  heavy  breathing,  an  effort  to  stand 
and  a  surrender  in  despair  to  the  hopelessness  of 
his  fate,  were  all  that  marked  Jim  Hosley's  resist- 
ance to  this  accusation. 

"You  wrote  this  letter — you  wrote  the  others — 
do  you  deny  it  ?" 

This  came  quickly  after  the  first  question  from 
her  lips;  her  manner  completely  changed,  betray- 
ing the  nervous  strain  under  which  she  suppressed 
her  emotions,  as  she  bravely  faced  the  man  for 
whom  the  world  had  seemed  a  small  sacrifice. 
Jealousy  might  have  waged  its  battle  in  privacy; 
but  the  revelation  of  a  detestable  crime  so  con- 
vincingly corroborated  by  this  letter  from  the 
nurse,  whose  pricking  conscience  had  at  last  re- 
ported my  version  of  Hosley  with  her  view  of  the 
ownership  and  purpose  of  the  damaging  poetic 
documents,  outlined  to  Gabrielle's  quick  intelli- 
gence the  method  of  a  deep,  patiently  pursued 
course  of  crime.  Her  father's  claims,  to  which 
her  deaf  ears  had  been  turned  in  the  ardor  of 
youth,  came  now  with  terrible  force  to  win  in- 
stant conviction.  She  would  not  falter  in  the 
crisis.  The  man  should  be  given  a  hearing — brief, 
to  be  sure — but  he  should  have  it. 


"Speak!"  The  command  brought  the  Gibsons 
to  their  feet,  but  Jim  was  paralyzed  and  dumb. 
After  a  long  pause,  he  took  all  the  responsibility 
for  my  folly  and  pleaded : 

"I  wrote  it,  Gabrielle — and  forgive  me." 

"Then  you  must  leave  this  house  at  once.  You 
go  your  way  and  I  shall  see  you  no  more.  I  know 
it  all  now.  This  letter  from  the  nurse — Mr.  Hop- 
kins— my  father — they  were  right.  I  have  been 
blind.  You  have  deceived  me,  just  as  you  de- 
ceived this  poor  woman,  whose  awful  fate  I  know. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gibson  and  Nellie" — she  turned, 
grasping  her  chair — "you  have  been  kind  friends. 
If  I  have  imposed  on  your  hospitality,  you  will 
forgive  me — " 

Unstrung  and  in  tears,  she  threw  herself  into 
Mrs.  Gibson's  outstretched  arms,  and  Nellie  and 
her  mother,  overcome  with  surprise  and  grief,  sup- 
ported her  as  she  walked  into  another  room. 

"Hosley,  I  demand  that  you  tell  me  what  this 
means,"  said  Mr.  Gibson,  advancing,  the  lines  of 
his  stern  face  tightly  drawn.  He  had  such  faith 
in  Gabrielle  he  could  not  doubt  her  words — and 
yet  he  had  loved  Jim  Hosley  these  many  years,  and 
he  could  not,  dared  not,  believe  that  his  faith  in 
Jim  was  founded  on  a  cleverly  contrived  imitation 
of  the  finest  qualities  of  manhood.  "What  does 


'l  WROTE  IT,   GABRIELLE — AND   FORGIVE   ME." Page   288. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       287 

this  all  mean — this  opposition  of  Tescheron,  this 
sudden  action  of  Gabrielle?" 

Jim  could  only  feebly  remonstrate  against  the 
pursuing  evil  which  had  clung  close  to  his  heels 
since  the  very  day  he  had  asked  Mr.  Tescheron 
for  his  daughter's  hand,  he  told  Mr.  Gibson ;  since 
the  very  night  of  the  fire ;  since  the  very  night  of 
my  connection  with  the  problem  when  it  began 
to  develop  as  a  simple  affair  of  the  heart. 

"Mr.  Gibson,  I  wrote  those  letters  years  ago, 
foolishly,  to  be  sure,  but  innocently,  believe  me. 
They  now  appear  to  ruin  me,"  he  huskily  pro- 
ceeded. "But  Gabrielle  would  be  fair  and  for- 
give me  that.  No,  it  is  not  that  I  wrote  the  let- 
ters— there  is  something  hidden.  She  will  not 
tell  me  what  it  is.  I  have  begged  her  to  tell  me, 
but  she  will  not.  She  would  only  tell  me  she 
loved  me  when  I  entreated  her  to  confide  in  me 
the  cause  of  her  father's  hatred.  Now  in  a  flash 
she  infers  something,  and  I  can  see  she  believes 
her  father,  and  joins  him  against  me.  Mr.  Gib- 
son, bear  with  me  a  moment.  Let  me  see  her 
now — " 

Mr.  Gibson  went  to  the  door  and  called  her 
softly. 

His  wife's  voice  was  heard  in  reply: 

"Gabrielle  has  gone." 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  SHAMBLING  step  along  tfie  floor  of  my 
hall  one  evening,  long  past  nine  o'clock, 
aroused  me  from  thoughts  of  Hosley,  the 
man  whose  image  filled  my  home  hours  with  a 
creeping  shame  and  dread.  A  knock  on  my  door, 
the  first  since  I  had  been  living  there,  startled  me. 
Before  I  could  advance,  Jim  Hosley  stumbled 
in  and  braced  his  worn  body  against  the  wall. 
He  reached  for  my  hand  and  I  took  it,  and  for- 
gave him  everything  I  had  suspected  he  had  done, 
and  every  crime  he  might  have  committed.  The 
look  on  Jim  Hosley's  face  that  night  would  have 
won  the  pardon  of  a  cannibal  chief;  it  would  have 
halted  a  Spanish  inquisition,  stayed  the  commune 
of  Paris  and  wrung  unadulterated,  anonymous 
pity  from  the  heart  of  an  Irish  landlord  or  a 
monopolist.  A  minute  before  I  was  for  hanging 
Jim  Hosley  (provided  my  connection  with  the 
case  was  not  revealed).  Now,  when  I  saw  him 
and  felt  his  hand  once  more  in  the  grasp  of  com- 

288 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       289 

radeship,  I  was  with  him  heart  and  soul,  and 
scoundrel  though  he  might  be,  a  lineal  descend- 
ant of  old  Bluebeard,  perhaps,  I  stood  ready 
to  sharpen  and  pass  his  knives  to  him  and 
assist  in  any  humble  way  a  willing  and  oblig- 
ing servant  could  to  make  the  business  a  suc- 
cess. 

"Ben,  I  have  searched  for  you  for  three  hours. 
Thank  Heaven,  I  am  near  you  at  last !  I  lay  in 
the  next  room  at  the  hospital,  but  Gabrielle  would 
not  let  me  see  you,"  were  his  first  words. 

"In  the  hospital  ?  With  me  in  the  next  room  ? 
And  Gabrielle—" 

"Yes,  Ben ;  we  can  talk  all  night,  and  then  we 
shan't  understand.  How  did  those  letters  writ- 
ten to  the  girl—" 

He  flung  himself  into  a  chair.  He  was  ex- 
hausted and  ten  years  older.  Pain  in  his  leg 
prompted  him  to  ask  me  to  remove  his  shoe.  I 
helped  him  into  my  dressing-gown,  gave  him  a 
pipe,  plenty  of  pillows  in  an  easy  chair  and  fondled 
him  like  a  prodigal  son.  I  was  never  so  glad  to 
see  a  mortal  since  I  peeped  into  the  world.  The 
fatted  calf's  substitute,  a  dish  of  pork  and  beans, 
was  put  to  heat  in  a  pan  of  water  on  the  gas 
stove.  The  coffee-pot  was  "rastled"  under  the  tap 
to  remove  the  early  morning  aroma  which  clung 


290       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

to  the  grounds  always  left  to  await  my  attention 
the  following  morning.  The  egg  poacher,  the 
toaster,  the  slab  of  bacon,  and  a  mince  pie,  bought 
an  hour  before  to  produce  sleep,  were  brought  out 
and  displayed  to  make  a  scene  like  the  old  days 
when  joy  was  unconfmed,  when  women  were  mere 
theories  and  courtship  a  pastime. 

Jim  in  his  despair  warmed  up  and  actually 
smiled.  That  heart-ache  which  had  overwhelmed 
him  and  made  life  so  unbearable  when  he  entered, 
gave  way,  and  hope,  with  the  smell  of  bacon  and 
fried  eggs,  mounted  higher.  Grief,  powerful  dy- 
namo though  it  be,  may  be  tickled  by  a  smaller 
one — a  square  meal  often  brings  its  victim  into 
line. 

"Jim,  we'll  take  the  night  to  talk  this  thing 
over.  It  will  take  all  that  time  for  me  to  tell  you 
that  I  am  so  mighty  glad  to  see  you  again,  and 
besides,  it  will  take  time  to  eat  as  well,  for  you 
look  to  me  as  if  food  was  the  one  supply  you  had 
failed  to  connect  with  since  that  fire.  Tell  me, 
Jim,  how  Gabrielle  could  keep  you  away  ?  How 
could  you  allow  a  woman  to  separate  you  from 
your  old  pal?  Does  it  seem  reasonable?  And 
yet  you  always  were  so  innocently  plausible  I 
could  never  doubt  you.  How  did  that  happen? 
Tell  me  now,  before  I  give  you  anything  to  eat. 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      291 

I  would  like  to  feel  a  little  more  sure  on  that 
point." 

I  whistled  and  rattled  on,  perfectly  charmed  to 
be  again  under  the  influence  of  that  wife-slayer's 
magic  smile  or  his  potent  frown — it  was  all  the 
same  to  me. 

"I  simply  don't  know,"  answered  Jim.  "I  can't 
tell  you.  I  don't  know,  Ben.  I  am  easily  led 
by  Gabrielle.  I  was  weak.  Had  I  insisted  upon 
seeing  you  from  the  first,  no  matter  what  hap- 
pened— but  there,  let  it  pass.  I  asked  your  help 
with  her  father.  There  I  made  a  bad  mistake. 
You  did  something — I  don't  know  what  it  was 
exactly,  but  you  put  your  foot  'way  down  in — • 
you  upset  me  from  the  first.  But  let  it  pass.  I'll 
take  all  you  can  give  me  to  eat  and  then  we'll  go 
at  the  thing  again ;  not  where  we  left  off  the  night 
we  parted  at  the  flat,  but  where  we  stand  now. 
Gabrielle,  too,  has  forsaken  me,  Ben."  He  looked 
at  me  with  his  mouth  drawn  down,  his  pinched 
face  betraying  surrender,  his  heavy  eyes  burdened 
with  care. 

"Forsaken  you !  How  so  ?  Was  she  not  with 
you  at  the  hospital?" 

"Those  letters  to  the  Brown  girl,  in  Thirty- 
eighth  Street,  are  at  the  bottom  of  it,  Ben.  I  told 
you  they  would  come  back,  if  you  wrote  so  much. 


292      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

Those  letters  have  ruined  me — ruined  me  with  the 
one  woman  I  have  loved.  The  other  women — 
those  to  whom  you  wrote,  you  induced  me  to  fool. 
Don't  you  see  you  did,  Ben?  Those  letters  you 
signed  my  name  to,  and  gushed  your  poetry  into 
like  a  stream  from  a  fire-hose,  swept  me  off ;  all  the 
women  you  wrote  to  thought  they  were  crazy  let- 
ters, Ben.  I  never  dared  tell  you  that;  but  they 
all  put  me  down  for  a  fool,  and  as  I  had  no  par- 
ticular interest  in  them  I  took  the  blame,  Ben.  I 
never  supposed  the  letters  could  reach  Gabrielle. 
I  had  them  all  in  my  bureau  drawer  when  the 
fire  started.  I  forgot  to  burn  them — just  chucked 
them  in  there  when  I  got  them  back  from  Miss 
Brown.  There  must  have  been  over  a  hundred. 
And,  blowed  if  you  didn't  work  in  a  lot  of  my 
hair!  Egad,  you  must  have  clipped  it  when  I 
fell  asleep  listening  to  you  read  them.  I  have 
heard  them  read  since,  too,  at  the  hospital.  Our 
nurse  read  one  very  prettily,  and  then  I  thought 
my  hour  had  come — " 

"Our  nurse  read  them !  My  nurse  in  your  room, 
too?" 

"Yes.     [We  Had  the  same  nurse." 

"Sit  up  and  have  some  pork  and  beans  and  a 
cup  of  coffee,  Jim,"  said  I.  I  could  see  then  that 
there  was  no  need  to  go  into  too  many  particulars. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       293 

I  did  not  care  to  go  much  further  till  I  had  col- 
lected some  definite  thoughts  and  arranged  to  con- 
ceal the  amount  of  cash  my  wisdom  had  seen  fit 
to  call  forth  from  my  bank  account  for  a  lot  of 
old  junk  that  had  been  stored  in  Jim  Hosley's 
bureau,  and  had  fallen  down  to  the  next  floor 
when  the  fire  took  place — just  the  spot  the  detec- 
tives wanted  it  to  land  precisely,  in  order  to  con- 
nect me  with  the  case.  It  would  not  have  sur- 
prised me  to  learn  that  Smith  and  Obreeon,  his 
partner  (for  I  could  plainly  see  he  was),  had 
started  that  fire  with  full  knowledge  of  the  loca- 
tion of  those  letters  and  the  exact  spot  they  would 
fall  if  a  match  were  touched  to  our  abode  at  the 
proper  time.  My  handwriting  in  the  Tescheron 
messages  had  given  me  away. 

"What  do  you  think  of  those  beans,  Jim  ?" 
'I  think  they  taste  more  like  home  than  any- 
thing I  have  met  since  I  took  that  bath." 

"There,  don't  say  another  word,  Jim.  I  won't 
accuse  you  of  anything.  You  had  your  bath,  and 
both  of  us  have  enjoyed  the  sweat  it  produced. 
When  we  come  out  of  this  thing  we'll  be  the 
purest  mortals  that  ever  took  a  course  in  practical 
morality  over  a  hot  stove  as  a  starter.  I  told  you 
about  tbat  quilt.  So,  that  is  the  way  it  was,  eh? 
Well,  Jim,  you  certainly  do  know  how  to  set  a 


294      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

house  afire,  although  I  never  believed  you  would 
set  the  world  afire.  I  take  it  you  will  clip  the 
ends  pretty  short  when  you  start  in  to  make  quilts 
again  for  that  purpose.  But  never  mind,  old  boy, 
try  another  cup  of  this  coffee." 

"Why  is  it  they  can't  make  coffee  in  a  hospi- 
tal ?"  asked  Jim. 

"They  do  make  it,"  I  answered  ;"but  the  doctors 
and  nurses  never  let  any  of  it  get  away  from  them. 
They  find  it  too  strong  for  boarders.  It's  bad  for 
their  nerves.  The  only  thing  that's  good  for  a 
sick  man  is  something  you  can  sterilize,  and  then 
they  may  charge  double  prices  for  it.  Jim,  did 
you  ever  feel  so  hungry  before  when  you  settled 
down  there?" 

I  was  trying  to  divert  his  attention  from  the 
trouble  I  had  put  him  through,  for  I  realized  there 
was  no  hope  for  his  case  unless  I  yet  took  a  hand 
in  and  patched  up  the  chasm  which  separated  him 
from  an  imagined  paradise. 

It  is  surprising  what  a  relation  there  is  between 
the  digestion  and  heart. 

"We  were  to  have  been  married  a  week  from 
to-day,  Ben,"  said  Jim. 

My  knife  and  fork  clattered  to  the  floor! 

"That's  so ;  and  now  we  are  parted  forever." 

I  was  struck  dumb — only  one  week  to  make 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      295 

good,  to  save  the  wreck  from  total  loss !  Some- 
thing must  be  done  quickly.  In  the  past  every- 
thing I  had  undertaken  had  been  a  failure,  but  I 
must  persist.  It  was  close  to  ten  o'clock — a  bad 
time  to  begin,  for  my  midnight  correspondence 
had  never  been  correctly  construed. 

"When  did  you  leave  Gabrielle  ?"  I  asked,  with 
an  idea  ranging  in  my  fancy.  It  was  an  intan- 
gible idea,  but  I  thought  it  promised  relief. 

"About  five  o'clock  to-day ;  we  separated  at  the 
Gibsons'." 

"You  stay  here  till  I  come  back,  and  go  on 
eating,  Jim,"  I  directed,  and  grabbing  my  hat  I 
rushed  for  the  door. 

"Stop,  Ben !  Don't  you  do  a  thing  to-night," 
commanded  Jim.  "What  can  you  do  now? 
Don't  you  know  you  made  a  bad  break  the  last 
time?" 

But  I  kept  right  on  and  sent  one  more  message 
from  the  nearest  messenger  office.  It  was  di- 
rected to  Miss  Tescheron  at  her  home  and  read : 

"Don't  recall  those  wedding  invitations  till  you 
see  me  to-morrow. 

"BENJAMIN  HOPKINS/' 

There  was  just  enough  of  the  indefinite  in  that, 
I  imagined,  to  suspend  operations;  it  would  be 


296      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

a  straw  for  the  woman  to  clutch.  She  would  not 
risk  the  unpleasant  notoriety  of  a  wedding  post- 
ponement, if  there  could  be  a  chance  that  she  had 
acted  impulsively  at  least,  and  had  been  misled  by 
circumstantial  evidence  she  had  ignored  till  there 
came  into  the  case  the  other-woman  element.  I 
did  not  fear  the  wound  in  her  heart,  unless  the 
gangrene  of  jealousy  entered  to  prevent  the  suc- 
cessful issue  of  my  hastily  arranged  plan. 

When  I  returned  to  the  house,  Jim  was  greatly 
disturbed. 

"Ben,  you  have  rushed  out  and  sent  another 
message;  I  can  see  it  in  your  face,"  he  said. 
"What  can  you  be  thinking  of  ?  Why  did  you  not 
wait  till  to-morrow  and  talk  this  thing  over  ?" 

"You  leave  this  matter  to  me,"  said  I. 

"Yes— I  did  that  before." 

"But  you  took  a  bath  contrary  to  my  advice." 
Tinkering  middlemen  and  ferrets  can  squeeze 
through  small  holes. 

I  determined  to  stop  proceedings  in  Ninety- 
sixth  Street,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible.  It 
seemed  nervy  for  me  to  interfere  now,  but  it  was 
a  long  shot  and  I  determined  to  take  it.  What 
I  would  do  to  cement  the  break  I  really  knew  not, 
but  trusted  to  luck. 

Jim   did   not   yet   know  about  the  Browning 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       297 

woman  and  the  interest  he  was  supposed  to  have 
in  her.  I  tapped  him  gently  and  so  indirectly  on 
the  subject  that  I  could  see  he  knew  nothing  about 
her.  The  undertaker's  card  he  had  found  in  the 
hall  and  brought  in  and  laid  on  the  table,  where  I 
chanced  to  pick  it  up,  little  thinking  I  would  take 
it  as  corroborative  of  anything  that  might  be  said 
against  him.  He  declared  he  had  not  left  the 
house  that  night.  Smith's  men  had  simply  lied 
when  they  said  he  left  with  the  undertaker.  I  had 
a  plan  for  testing  his  statement,  however. 

When  he  told  me  how  I  had  driven  the  Tesch- 
eron  family  to  Hoboken  for  six  weeks,  and  hinted 
his  suspicions  gathered  from  Gabrielle  that  the  old 
gentleman  had  been  forced  to  settle  with  some  offi- 
cial before  returning,  I  was  almost  struck  dumb. 
As  he  gave  me  the  details  of  his  wretched  experi- 
ence of  that  afternoon  at  the  Gibsons',  I  became 
desperate. 

"Jim,  if  that  wedding  comes  off  next  Wednes- 
day, will  you  forgive  me?"  I  asked. 

"It's  impossible." 

"What— to  forgive  me?" 

"For  me  to  ever  achieve  such  happiness."  From 
the  depths  of  his  despair,  he  looked  at  me  entreat- 
ingly  as  he  spoke. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

DURING  the  night — we  turned  in  about 
two  A.  M. — it  occurred  to  me  that  I  had 
heard  or  read  that  no  person  could  be 
legally  convicted  of  murder  till  the  body  of  the 
victim  had  been  found  dead.  This  little  matter 
had  been  overlooked  about  long  enough,  I 
thought.  The  lawyers  might  have  asked  con- 
cerning the  corpus  delicti,  but  no  one  had  sought 
their  advice.  It  struck  me  that  the  common-sense 
thing  to  do  now  was  to  begin  at  the  bottom  and 
see  Collins,  the  undertaker,  before  I  went  too  far 
in  exonerating  Hosley,  even  though  I  could  never 
hope  to  escape  the  spell  of  his  innocent,  whole- 
hearted manner. 

The  morning  following  the  arrival  of  Jim,  with 
his  burden  of  woe,  seeking  release  through  the 
middleman  of  yore,  I  started  out  early,  deter- 
mined to  do  the  biggest  day's  work  as  an  inter- 
mediary ever  recorded  on  Cupid's  card  index.  I 
found  Mr.  Collins  busy  keeping  his  professional 

298 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      299 

Prince  Albert  coat  wide  open,  with  both  hands  in 
his  trousers  pockets,  at  his  quiet  "establishment" 
— so  described  on  the  gold  sign.  I  explained  that 
I  wanted  some  information.  He  recalled  the 
Browning  case  very  well,  and  tried  hard  to 
smile  when  I  asked  for  the  name  of  the  cem- 
etery and  its  location,  that  I  might  visit  the 
grave.  I  thought  that  might  stagger  him,  but 
it  did  not. 

"You  see,  this  sort  of  burial  was  out  of  my 
line  altogether,  but  I  did  it  to  please  Browning, 
an  old  friend  of  mine,  and  the  children,  as  much 
as  anything,"  he  answered  with  complete  self-pos- 
session. 

Out  of  his  line,  of  course,  thought  I,  because 
his  specialty  was  cremations,  and  this  was  a  burial 
— much  to  my  surprise. 

"The  lady  was  very  kind  to  us  when  we  lived 
there,  Mr.  Collins,"  I  said,  lying  impressively.  "I 
have  been  laid  up  in  the  hospital  so  long  I  have 
not  had  a  chance  to  make  the  inquiry  before.  I 
want  to  take  some  flowers  to  lay  on  her  grave  as  a 
token  of  our  respect — my  partner  and  I,  you  know 
— Mr.  Hosley.  We  always  found  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing very  accommodating*'  (she  never  bothered  me, 
for  I  did  not  know  that  she  existed  until  she 
ceased  to  do  so) .  "We  propose  to  take  a  whole  day 


300      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

off  and  make  a  trip  up  there  now  to  attend  to  this 
duty  which  has  been  uppermost  in  our  minds." 

Mr.  Collins  being  a  member  of  the  Undertak- 
ers' Association,  had  been  operated  on  for  the  re- 
moval of  his  diaphragm  to  prevent  laughing,  and 
he  therefore  took  a  serious  professional  interest 
in  my  request  He  retired  to  the  neighborhood 
of  his  safe,  looked  into  some  large  books  and  re- 
turned with'  the  name  of  the  cemetery  and  a  few 
directions  written  on  a  slip  of  paper. 

"You'll  find  it  just  back  of  Mount  Vernon, 
about  two  miles  from  the  trolley  crossing  I  have 
given  you  there.  Take  a  hack  when  you  leave  the 
car;  there's  a  livery  right  across  the  street.  And 
say,  don't  forget  to  come  back  and  tell  me  about 
it." 

I  thanked  him  for  his  kindness  and  assured  him 
I  would  return  to  tell  him  the  result  of  my  search. 

The  proper  thing  to  do  with  a  murderer  is  to 
subject  him  to  the  third  degree.  Very  often  he  will 
quake  when  taken  to  the  grave  of  his  victim.  So  I 
decided  to  take  Jim  up  there  with  me ;  we  could  do 
it  and  get  back  easily  by  noon,  and  maybe  before.  If 
he  quaked,  I  would  not  need  to  be  hasty  in  defend- 
ing him,  and  if  he  did  not  quake,  the  air  would  do 
him  good,  poor  chap,  for  he  was  badly  unstrung 
and  needed  a  ride  in  the  country. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      301 

"Come,  Jim,"  I  shouted,  rushing  into  the  house. 
"I  am  not  going  down  to  the  office  to-day.  I  shall 
take  a  day  off  to  straighten  out  your  tangled  af- 
fairs. Get  your  things  on  and  come  with  me." 

He  seemed  to  doubt  my  prowess,  but  slowly 
worked  his  way  into  his  coat.  Before  board- 
ing the  elevated  train  going  north,  I  bought  a 
handsome  bouquet  of  lilies-of-tfie-valley,  tube- 
roses, asparagus  fern  and  enougH  forget-me-nots 
to  appropriately  light  up  the  center.  This  indi- 
cated to  Jim  that  I  was  preparing  a  peace  offer- 
ing to  tender  Gabrielle.  He  wanted  to  Know  if 
he  hadn't  better  wait  on  the  corner  while  I  went 
in  and  did  the  talking. 

"In  where?"  I  asked,  for  I  had  given  no  partic- 
ulars. 

"Why,  you  are  going  up  to  Ninety-sixth  Street, 
aren't  you?" 

"Not  I,"  Said  I.  "At  least  not  yet.  We  are 
going  beyond  that,  Jim ;  up  to  Mount  Vernon  and 
beyond  by  trolley  when  we  leave  the  elevated."  I 
looked  him  square  in  the  eye,  and  I  could  see  no 
quaking.  If  he  was  suspicious,  he  knew  how  to 
dissemble.  Could  triat  be  possible  ?  I  wondered, 
but  only  for  a  second. 

"What  are  you  going  there  for,  Ben?" 

"Can't  you  imagine,  Jim  ?"  I  asked,  having  that 


302       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

midnight  journey  in  mind  that  he  might  have 
taken  with  the  man  Collins,  or  his  representatives, 
the  night  I  was  at  the  hotel.  But  I  could  not  un- 
derstand how  he  could  have  had  time  to  make  the 
trip. 

"Never  was  up  this  way  in  my  life,"  he  an- 
swered, "and  don't  see  where  it  comes  in  now, 
hanged  if  I  do." 

"Well,  it's  a  little  notion  of  mine,"  I  assured  him. 
"I  don't  want  to  proceed  on  this  matter  with  Ga- 
brielle  until  I  have  been  to  Mount  Vernon  and 
two  miles  beyond.  The  air  will  do  you  good,  and 
so  I  brought  you  for  that  purpose." 

I  thought  I  would  appear  benevolent  in  his  eyes, 
if  I  could  not  startle  him.  To  tell  the  truth,  I 
did  not  expect  to  startle  him.  He  could  not  plot, 
and  I  was  a  knave,  I  thought  then,  ever  to  have 
doubted  him.  But  I  must  go  on  and  give  him  the 
third  degree,  for  common-sense  compelled  caution. 

"Ben,  let's  cut  out  Mount  Vernon,  get  off  and 
go  up  to  Ninety-sixth  Street.  I'll  go  in  alone  and 
see  if  Gabrielle  will  not  meet  me  this  morning.  I 
think  she  may,  if  you  did  not  spoil  everything  by 
some  crazy  message." 

"Why,  Miss  Tescheron  will  be  down-town  by 
this  time;  it  is  after  nine  o'clock." 

"That's  so.     I  don't  suppose  any  one  but  her 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      503 

mother  would  be  home."  He  seemed  perfectly 
satisfied  to  go  with  me  after  that. 

It  was  a  dismal  ride  across  the  little  stretch  of 
country,  and  when  the  hack  drew  up  in  front  of 
a  tall,  red  building,  I  looked  at  my  bouquet  and 
then  at  the  driver,  asking  him  if  he  understood 
me  to  call  for  a  brewery,  the  only  object  that 
seemed  to  lie  before  us.  The  man  with  the  reins 
thereupon  directed  us  to  make  a  detour  of  the 
building  and  its  fringe  of  beer  garden,  to  a  point 
where  we  would  behold  the  spot  we  sought.  I 
took  Jim's  arm  and  helped  him  to  struggle  toward 
the  place.  An  old  man  in  fiis  sfiirt-sleeves  was 
digging  in  a  prospective  vegetable  patch  with 
much  lubrication  of  the  horny  hands  of  toil,  in 
which  lie  grasped  a  potato  fork. 

"Getting  ready  to  plant?"  I  asked,  my  farming 
blood  beginning  to  rise.  "Why  don't  you  use 
a  spade  and  get  somewhere?"  There  I  was,  as 
usual,  ready  to  give  advice. 

"  'Tain't  necessary ;  we  don't  plant  very  deep, 
only  'bout  a  foot  or  two ;  expect  we'll  have  to  later 
on,  though,  if  the  business  keeps  on  like  it  has  been 
goin'.  Say,  mister,  what  time  is  it?"  A  man 
who  digs  for  day's  wages  frequently  wants  to 
know  the  time,  so  I  accommodated  him  and  lost 
track  of  the  direction  of  his  remarks. 


304      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"Can  you  tell  me  where  I'll  find  the  grave  noted 
on  this  slip  of  paper?"  I  asked,  handing  Collins' 
memorandum  to  him. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "that's  one  of  mine.  Brown- 
ing— that's  right.  I  kin  show  it  to  you.  Step 
this  way." 

When  he  said  it  was  one  of  his,  I  took  it  to 
mean  that  he  had  been  the  digger  for  the  occasion. 
So  we  followed  through  a  little  rustic  gate — 
Hamlet  Hopkins  and  Horatio  Hosley — into  a 
fenced  lot  comprising  about  two  acres  of  level 
groun'd,  laid  out  in  the  smallest  graves  I  had  ever 
seen.  Most  of  them  were  about  the  size  of  my 
floral  tribute.  The  tiny  marble  slabs  reared  above 
many  of  trie  little  knolls  seemed  like  foot-stones, 
anicf  appeared  to  indicate  that  the  perpendicular 
system  of  the  Irish  pagans  had  been  adopted. 

"Here's  your'n,"  said  our  guide,  pointing  to  a 
very  small  exhibit  in  his  peculiar  collection.  I 
laid  the  flowers  on  it  an3  glanced  at  the  headstone. 
The  simple  inscription  read : 

"TOOTSEY." 

Trie  foot-stone  fore  this  epitapK : 
"RATS!" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

ON  the  way  home  in  the  hack  and  the  trol- 
ley, Jim  wanted  to  know  why  I  had  gone 
so  far  out  of  my  way.  Was  it  part  of  my 
work  for  the  city?  Did  I  think  I  could  manage 
his  affairs  with  so  much  lost  time?  He  was  as 
restless  and  nervous  as  a  hungry  dog  shivering 
before  a  meat-shop.  As  for  myself,  I  never 
yielded  a  point  in  my  dignity,  but  tried  hard  to 
add  to  my  supply  of  superiority,  assuring  him 
the  hour  would  soon  be  at  hand  when  I  could  re- 
port a  complete  victory  in  his  cause,  and  my  own 
vindication  as  a  middleman  in  the  sort  of  business 
that  had  run  me  through  the  tortures  specially  pre- 
pared for  those  who  flatter  themselves  they  are 
better  able  to  manage  other  people's  business  than 
their  own.  I  had  gone  in  so  deep  I  determined 
to  wade  through  to  the  finish,  no  matter  if  I  did 
botch  it.  A  craftsman  such  as  I  was  could  not 
be  balked. 

I  left  Jim  at  home  and  hurried  down  to  Miss 

305 


306      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

Tescheron's    office,  reaching    there    about    two 
o'clock.     I  sent  in  my  card  by  the  boy,  and  it  was 
returned,  with  the  information  that  Miss  Tesch- 
eron  was  too  busy  to  see  me. 
I  took  the  card  and  wrote  on  it : 

"To  the  very  last  day  of  your  life  you  will  re- 
gret this  act  of  folly.  I  have  great  good  news 
for  you.  HOPKINS/' 

The  boy  did  not  return  for  ten  minutes.  I 
knew  then  that  my  message  was  working  its 
leaven,  and  in  time  the  moment  of  victory  would 
arrive.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  the  boy  re- 
turned and  requested  that  I  follow  him  into  Miss 
Tescheron's  office.  There  I  found  that  charming 
young  lady  struggling  to  maintain  an  air  of  dis- 
interested dignity  behind  a  desk  which  I  could 
not  approach  within  three  feet,  because  a  railing 
had  been  planted  as  an  outpost  to  guard  against 
the  bore  emergency.  But  three  feet  was  near 
enough  for  me  that  day.  I  could  have  done  the 
work  anywhere  within  range  of  my  voice  or  pen, 
it  was  such  an  easy  matter ;  at  least,  I  thought  so 
when  I  gained  admission  to  the  judge  who  was 
to  be  moved  by  my  plea  in  behalf  of  the  de- 
fendant, Hosley. 


As  I  drew  near,  making  my  most  dignified  bow, 
I  beheld  the  form  of  a  gray-haired  man,  who  was 
advancing  in  years  beyond  the  middle  period  of 
life.  He  was  seated  near  Miss  Tescheron,  whom 
I  now  faced  for  the  first  time.  I  knew  he  must 
be  John  MacDonald,  the  famous  lawyer.  Miss 
Tescheron,  I  imagined,  had  called  him  in  to  be  a 
witness  to  all  I  might  have  to  say.  Two  judges, 
therefore,  were  to  hear  the  presentation  I  was 
about  to  make  in  behalf  of  the  outcast.  In  my 
capacity  as  middleman,  I  had  always  relied  on  the 
pen;  but  it  was  up  to  me  now  to  make  good  the 
claims  of  my  client  with  a  verbal  argument  be- 
fore two  of  the  most  discriminating  lawyers. 

I  relied  more,  however,  on  the  woman's  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXItE 

HOW  fortunate  I  was  in  my  judges  or  my 
jury  of  two — a  fond  woman  and  a  plain 
man  of  common-sense!       As  our  lives 
have  been  so  bound  with  theirs,  I  must  reveal  the 
man  more  fully  here. 

Mr.  MacDonald  was  widely  known  among  that 
class  of  corporations  that  sought  knowledge  of  the 
law  and  not  opinions  as  to  how  it  might  be  cor- 
rupted. They  came  to  him  to  carry  their  cases 
through"  tEe  courts,  and  not  through  the  legisla- 
tures via  the  lobby.  Therefore,  he  was  not  what 
is  commonly  called  a  corporation  lawyer.  He 
never  drew  bills  designed  to  conceal  franchise 
grabs  or  tax  evasions,  or  crooked  contracts  with 
dummies  in  subsidiary  corporations  organized  to 
bleed  a  mother  concern  of  its  profits.  Some  laws 
not  on  the  books  governed  him  in  such  matters,  so 
that  he  never  became  an  accomplice  in  these  forms 
of  thievery.  He  did  more  than  pray  "lead  us  not 
into  temptation";  he  kept  both  of  his  keen  eyes 

308 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      309 

open  to  make  sure  that  he  did  not  fall  into  it, 
and  when  he  found  that  he  had  fallen,  he  quickly 
made  every  effort  to  extricate  himself.  This 
meant  that  he  turned  away  volumes  of  business 
which  would  have  brought  large  returns,  but  he 
would  not  have  his  office  fouled  by  this  stream  of 
corruption  any  more  than  he  would  seek  health 
in  a  sewer.  When  these  degenerate  concerns  were 
admitted  to  his  office,  they  came  as  penitents  seek- 
ing reformation.  His  regular  clients  were  the 
corporations  who  had  come  to  take  his  view,  that 
a  big  business  must  be  laid  on  broad  and  deep 
foundations  of  integrity  all-around ;  that  all  com- 
promises with  blackmailing  legislatures  are  but 
makeshifts;  that  the  thing  to  seek  is  justice,  not 
only  for  themselves,  but  with  a  greater  zeal  for 
the  people  whose  resources  they  use.  The  whole 
solution  of  our  economic  problems,  in  the  mind 
of  this  simple  student  of  the  law — including  its 
ninety  per  cent,  of  human  nature — lay  in  the  cor- 
porations training  their  lawyers  upon  themselves 
as  their  most  unmerciful  critics — as  conscience, 
the  censor,  lays  down  the  laws  which  every  strong 
individual  must  follow  or  meet  his  doom  in  ruin. 
The  underlying  principles  of  the  thing  involving 
millions  were  as  simple  in  his  mind  as  the  obli- 
gation to  pay  his  washerwoman,  if  he  were  to 


maintain  his  self-respect.  The  officers  and  direc- 
tors of  a  corporation,  he  believed,  could  no  more 
successfully  cheat  the  State  of  its  just  taxes,  or 
rob  the  stockholders  by  paying  them  a  small  profit 
on  their  holdings  while  draining  the  earnings  of 
the  concern  with  their  subsidiary  National  Pack- 
ing &  Transportation  Companies,  United  States 
Terminal  Companies  and  American  Warehouse  & 
Bonding  Corporations,  without  in  the  end  reaping 
the  reward  of  their  crimes.  Mr.  MacDonald 
would  no  more  give  his  consent  to  the  swindling 
of  innocent  stockholders  by  their  trustees,  than 
he  would  rob  an  apple-stand.  He  had  that  rare 
discernment  so  seldom  found  now  among  big  busi- 
ness men  and  their  lawyer  followers — he  could 
see  the  wrong  involved  in  the  stealing  of  a  million 
dollars  and  would  gladly  have  aided  in  a  move- 
ment to  amend  the  penal  code  so  as  to  prevent  it, 
for  he  believed  it  possible  for  law  to  bring  within 
the  scope  of  its  crushing  penalties  the  audacity  of 
these  modern  Captain  Kidds.  When  he  read  the 
formal  advertisement  of  a  great  industrial  monop- 
oly declaring  a  dividend  of  a  few  per  cent,  per 
annum  basis  on  a  lake  of  water  owned  by  "out- 
siders," he  thought  of  the  beautifully  worded  con- 
tracts made  between  the  officers  of  the  concern, 
the  "insiders,"  and  their  dummies,  in  the  dozen  or 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       311 

so  parasitic  companies  whose  stock  was  nearly  all 
in  their  own  hands,  and  paid  from  twenty  to  forty 
and  even  a  hundred  per  cent,  on  the  investment 
in  unadvertised  dividends.  He  thought  of  this 
and  hundreds  of  other  forms  of  legalized  theft 
practiced  by  these  men  of  church  standing,  who 
made  it  a  point  never  to  engage  in  petit  larceny. 
They  preferred  to  steal  millions  and  keep  on  the 
safe  side.  They  divided  up  the  "swag"  in  the 
office  of  the  American  Transportation  and  Termi- 
nal Company,  organized  solely  for  that  respectable 
purpose.  It  had  a  fine  name,  but  the  Bowery 
thieves  would  recognize  it  as  a  "fence."  John 
MacDonald  used  to  say:  "A  corporation  is  not 
known  by  the  companies  it  keeps." 

For  five  years  Gabrielle  Tescheron  had  ad- 
vanced under  the  guidance  of  this  simple,  wise 
and  good  man,  so  that  at  the  time  of  our  story 
she  had  been  well  grounded  in  her  profession,  in 
its  philosophy,  in  the  routine  of  its  office  practice, 
and  to  some  extent  in  the  knowledge  of  human  na- 
ture its  successful  followers  must  command.  The 
long  rows  of  sheepskin-bound  books  in  the  office 
library  were  less  formidable;  the  grind  of  detail 
was  no  longer  an  obstacle  to  her  ambition,  which 
nerved  her  onward  to  the  higher  slopes  of  profes- 
sional occupation,  for  she  now  had  reliable  subor- 


312      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

dinates  trained  accordingtothe  MacDonald  system 
of  thoroughness  to  complete  for  her  the  irksome 
tasks.  Mixed  up  as  the  business  was  in  corpora- 
tion matters,  it  had  much  to  look  after  that  had 
fallen  to  it  through  legal  processes,  but  which  of 
itself  was  pure  business  management  and  far  away 
from  the  law.  There  were  receiverships,  and  for- 
tunate was  the  weak-kneed  concern  that  fell  into 
John  MacDonald's  hands ;  it  generally  meant  new 
life  and  success  for  a  dying  venture.  He  worked 
no  magic,  but  he  applied  a  lot  of  common-sense 
where  it  had  been  scarce  before,  so  that  the  re- 
sults seemed  much  as  if  a  fairy  in  finance  had 
touched  the  difficult  problems  with  a  mystic  wand. 
It  was,  however,  the  effect  of  truth  entering  where 
promotors  had  held  sway  before,  or  where  addle- 
pated  sons  of  constructive  fathers,  now  departed, 
had  been  trying  to  make  the  business  go  on  what 
they  knew  of  actresses  and  automobiles.  These 
concerns  did  so  well  under  the  receivership  that 
when  they  began  business  anew,  John  MacDonald 
was  generally  engaged  to  remain  in  control  of  the 
management.  If  he  found  the  right  man  in  the 
shop — the  fellow  who  might  have  saved  it — or 
could  put  his  finger  on  such  a  man  elsewhere,  he 
would  assume  the  task  with  that  man  in  charge 
under  him.  Concerns  that  were  tottering  to  a  fall 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       313 

through  bad  management  naturally  drifted  into 
his  office  before  the  worst  happened,  and  engaged 
him  to  save  their  corporate  lives  by  his  superior 
executive  ability.  This  he  would  do  also  if  he 
could  find  his  man.  As  a  lawyer,  he  had  less  re- 
gard for  the  law's  power  to  effect  transformations 
than  a  layman,  and  a  higher  conception  of  the 
value  of  good  men.  While  the  ignoramuses  at 
the  head  of  the  capital  and  labor  trusts  were  for 
leveling  all  the  men  in  our  big  business  concerns, 
MacDonald  continued  to  have  faith  in  strong  in- 
dividuals. 

The  effect  of  close  relationship  with  this  man 
was  to  gain  strength.  Gabrielle  had  studied  his 
methods  until  they  became  her  own.  As  I  stood 
there  before  them,  I  did  not  know  them  as  I  do 
now.  MacDonald's  fame  I  knew,  and  that  tended 
to  frighten  me.  It  should  have  given  me  confi- 
dence, for  John  MacDonald  was  what  I  call  an 
"elemental  man."  He  kept  close  to  the  earth — • 
the  simples  of  the  world,  he  dealt  in.  It  may  ap- 
pear from  what  I  have  said  that  he  was  loaded 
down  with  responsibilities  and  care;  then  I  have 
not  made  it  clear  that  the  exercise  of  these  execu- 
tive gifts  was  chiefly  to  secure  leisure  and  the 
opportunity  for  relaxation — a  most  important 
thing  in  the  MacDonald  philosophy.  He  and  his 


314       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

staff  worked  hard  that  they  might  have  time  to 
play,  and  with  short  hours  and  good  pay  they 
came  near  to  having  the  right  proportions  of 
labor  and  leisure  to  keep  men  and  women  sound 
in  health  and  contented  with  the  world.  There- 
fore, there  were  not  many  employed  in  his  office. 
Why,  down  in  one  of  the  city  departments  so 
familiar  to  Jim  and  me,  the  same  volume  of  busi- 
ness would  have  required  ten  times  as  many  em- 
ployes, and  at  least  thirty  different  systems. 

During  his  leisure,  which  John  MacDonald 
planned  to  maintain  against  all  comers,  and  the 
on-rush  of  business,  he  practiced  the  art  of  relaxa- 
tion; he  had  formed  a  habit  of  returning  to  the 
simple  from  confusing  contact  with  the  complex, 
and  he  practiced  it  largely  in  his  home,  with  his 
wife  and  children.  Lincoln  is  the  best-known 
master  of  this  art,  necessary  to  maintain  the  equi- 
librium of  a  busy  man,  and  keep  him  fresh,  sane, 
sociable  and  interestingly  boyish. 

MacDonald  had  gone  into  the  thick  of  the 
world's  strife,  and  through  the  ordeal  had  shielded 
himself  from  its  poisoned  arrows  of  ambition.  At 
a  board  meeting,  it  was  said  of  John  MacDonald, 
that  when  the  three  minutes  of  real  business  were 
over  and  his  associates  then  began  to  discuss  mat- 
ters in  the  domain  of  irrelevancies,  he  resolved 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      315 

into  smiles  and  found  somebody  to  crack  a  joke 
with.  He  figured  that  about  a  third  of  his  avail- 
able time  was  given  to  actual  work,  and  the  rest 
to  play,  because  his  colleagues  had  so  much  ground 
to  cover  without  reaching  anywhere.  There  were 
days  when  he  worked  a  full  sixteen  hours,  but  they 
were  few,  and  he  was  always  alone.  On  the  days 
he  had  to  associate  with  talking  business  men,  he 
made  up  for  these  busy  days  by  relaxing  at  a 
more  rapid  pace  in  a  revel  of  bracing  fun.  I  never 
knew  a  man  who  understood  so  thoroughly  how  to 
live  and  succeed,  because  it  seemed  to  me  he  knew 
how  to  discount  everything  unnecessary,  so  that 
he  might  take  the  time  others  gave  to  straining 
their  nerves  to  save  his. 

I  suppose  the  character  of  Gabrielle  Tescheron 
might  have  yielded  to  the  unstable  influences  of 
her  home,  where  her  impulsive  and  irascible  father 
sought  to  be  an  influential  factor,  were  it  not  for 
the  counteracting  effect  of  the  day's  associations 
in  that  calm  realm  of  business  activity,  where  so 
much  of  the  brain-work  of  vast  industrial  enter- 
prises was  conducted  as  noiselessly  as  the  move- 
ments of  one  of  those  powerful  machines  that  run 
in  an  oil  bath.  I  do  not  say  that  she  would  not 
have  been  superior  to  her  home  environment  with- 
put  her  fortunate  associations  down-town.  J 


316      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

give  the  business  small  credit,  for  our  superior 
jewels  are  intrinsically  precious  before  the  artisan 
gives  the  polish  by  which  we  more  often  make  our 
comparisons.  But  there  can  be  no  question  that 
she  worked  among  associations  which  strength- 
ened and  emphasized  all  her  admirable  qualities 
and  placed  her  above  the  petty  things  that  an- 
noyed her  fretful  father  and  seemed  like  moun- 
tains to  his  magnifying  eyes. 

These,  then,  were  Hosley's  judges, 

"Miss  Tescheron,  I  come  to  right  a  great 
wrong,  for  which  I  am  wholly  responsible;  will 
you  hear  me  ?"  I  asked  as  softly  and  politely  as  the 
meekest  penitent  ever  tutored  for  the  book  agent's 
business. 

"I  have  no  desire  to  hear  you,"  she  answered 
firmly,  but  with  a  slight  nervousness  betraying  the 
deep  interest  she  denied. 

"I  trust  you  will  be  persuaded  to  at  least  hear 
me,  and  then — " 

"But  there  is  nothing  you  can  say,  as  the  sub- 
ject I  know  you  wish  to  allude  to  is  closed.  Please 
do  not  refer  to  it."  It  was  a  woman's  "No." 

Mr.  MacDonald  tilted  back  his  chair  and  eyed 
me  closely,  but  not  discouragingly. 

"You  are  supposed  to  deal  in  justice  here,  are 
you  not,  Miss  Tescheron?"  I  continued,  not  heed- 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      317 

ing  her  frigid,  uninviting  air.  I  had  planned  to 
deal  tenderly  with  her  wound,  but  soon  realized 
that  my  sympathetic  beginning  had  proved  more 
irritating  than  bluntness ;  accordingly  I  introduced 
the  spice  of  severity  in  tone  in  equivalent  degree 
as  an  experiment,  and  as  I  proceeded  I  noted  the 
interest  of  John  MacDonald  increasingly  reflected 
in  the  features  of  his  pupil. 

"Justice  demands  that  I  be  heard.  Unfortu- 
nately, I  deserve  nothing  here,  for  I  have  done 
about  all  a  fool  could  reasonably  be  expected  to 
do  to  upset  my  own  and  others'  plans.  And  now 
I  demand  but  a  few  minutes  of  your  time  to 
square  the  account.  My  point  is  that  every  dog 
has  his  day.  I  shall  have  had  mine  as  a  meddler 
in  the  affairs  of  my  friend  when  I  am  through 
here.  James  Hosley,  for  whom  I  appear,  is  charged 
with  something  by  somebody,  he  doesn't  know  what 
or  by  whom,  and  he  was  convicted  by  your  father, 
and  the  conviction  has  finally  been  sustained  on 
appeal  to  you.  As  you  alone  exercise  the  pardon- 
ing power,  I  come  before  you  to-day  to  have  the 
case  reopened  for  the  presentation  of  new  evi- 
dence. Would  it  not  seem  ridiculous  to  blast  your 
lives  or  even  to  upset  the  plans  of  the  caterer  now 
forming  for  the  great  event  next  Wednesday,  if 
on  the  morning  following  that  date  we  should  read 


318       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

in  the  papers  the  true  story  of  this  affair  in  place 
of  the  usual  formal  wedding  notice?  Would  it 
not  seem  cruel  to  have  it  published  that  jealousy, 
founded  on  love-letters  the  man  never  wrote, 
turned  the  woman  from  him  at  the  very  altar? 
Yes,  he  never  wrote  a  line  of  that  gush — that  silly 
drivel — it  was  a  joke;  but  it  was  as  nothing  to 
the  culmination  of  the  villainy  of  those  detectives 
who  have  swindled  your  father,  for  it  now  threat- 
ens to  ruin  two  lives." 

Briefly  I  ran  over  the  account  of  our  trip  to 
farther  Mount  Vernon,  and  of  the  effect  of  the 
third  degree's  pressure  on  Jim. 

Mr.  MacDonald  relaxed  control  of  his  dignity, 
and  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh.  Gabrielle  blushed 
deeply  and  faltered  until  I  proceeded  a  few  sen- 
tences farther. 

"Yes,  Jim's  old  love-letters  that  I  wrote  for 
literary  exercise  years  ago,  failed  to  impress  the 
girls,  who  returned  them.  At  the  fire  they  proved 
to  be  fireproof,  and  fell  through  the  floor.  The 
sneaking  detectives  found  them  and  brought  them 
to  me.  Jim  is  now  at  my  room,  completely  igno- 
rant of  the  charges  against  him,  poor  abandoned 
wretch !" 

I  then  subsided  and  reviewed  carefully  all  the 
particulars,  concluding  with  the  statement ; 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      319 

"I  submit  to  your  honors  that  there  is  no  get- 
ting around  my  proposition  that  every  dog  has 
his  day." 

As  I  closed,  Gabrielle  hastily  withdrew.  Her 
face  told  the  story.  She  passed  out,  my  card 
tightly  held  in  her  hand.  I  knew  I  had  won  the 
verdict. 

Mr.  MacDonald  chatted  with  me  for  a  few  min- 
utes, and  thanked  me  for  my  promptness  in  send- 
ing that  telegram  the  night  before,  for  without 
it  the  postponement  of  the  wedding  would  have 
revealed  an  absurd  situation  and  held  us  all  up 
to  public  ridicule. 

"I  liked  the  way  you  put  this  thing,"  said  he, 
as  we  parted.  "Let  me  see  you  again." 

I  now  figure  that  the  cash  I  paid  Obreeon  I 
would  have  won  back  at  that  interview  a  good 
hundredfold,  in  view  of  what  MacDonald  has 
done  for  me  since,  had  there  been  no  other  devel- 
opments. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

I  WAS  not  satisfied  with  my  partial  victory  be- 
fore the  lawyers.  I  hastened  to  Fulton 
Market  and  there  found  Mr.  Tescheron  sur- 
roun'ded  by  the  slippery  remnants  of  a  big  day's 
business  in  cold-storage  and  fresh  merchandise. 
Here  the  art  of  making  a  three-cent  Casco  Bay 
lobster  worth  two  thousand  per  cent,  more  on  the 
New  York  City  restaurant  table  is  largely  devel- 
oped. The  middleman  who  stands  between  the 
inhabitants  of  the  sea  and  those  of  the  land  is 
indeed  a  fisher  of  men  as  well  as  fish".  As  an  In- 
spector of  Offensive  Trades,  I  am  ready  to  tes- 
tify that  the  odor  of  the  market  is  generally  an 
index  of  the  strength  of  the  bank  balance.  The 
richness  of  the  atmosphere  around  Tescheron's 
office  convinced  me  that  Jim  could  not  afford  to 
alienate  the  affections  of  sucH  a  father-in-law. 
As  I  advanced  toward  the  small  box  in  which  Mr. 
Tescheron  sat  wrapped  in  his  scaly  ulster,  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  a  live  flounder,  who  appealed  to  me 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      321 

in  whispers,  as  he  made  an  effort  to  turn  over  and 
find  some  cooler  ice.  I  did  not  interrupt  him. 
He  spoke  as  follows : 

THE  MARKET  FLOUNDER'S  ICY  REMARKS 

For  Friday  morn  is  hangman's  day ; 

Fast  in  the  noose  I  dangle. 
At  four  A.  M.  the  clam  I  seek, 

And  get  into  a  tangle. 
Alas !  my  wish — a  one-eyed  fish*— 

To  find  a  juicy  ration ; 
The  clam  on  high  began  to  die— 

A  sweet  anticipation! 
Beware  the  scent,  tho'  hunger  groan! 
My  gentle  kiss  (a  fishing  smack) 
Shot  far  amiss  and  with  a  hiss 
I  landed  pretty  well  for'ard. 
A  smack  I  smote  with  a  fearful  thwack, 
A  stunning  whack  across  the  back, 
On  the  upper  deck  of  the  Judy  Peck. 
At  noon  to-day,  the  fishermen  say, 

We  ornament  the  table — 
O,  wretched  deed!— or  chicken  feed, 

Two  rods  behind  the  stable, 

*Acting  under  Section  1519  of  the  Poetic  License  Act,  I 
have  deducted  one  eye  from  the  flounder.  He  is  about  to 
lose  both,  anyway. 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

My  purpose  was  to  be  serious  with  Mr.  Tescri- 
eron.  I  had  fooled  him  quite  enough.  He  rec- 
ognized me,  and  as  he  was  so  cool,  surrounded  by 
his  cracked  ice,  I  did  not  give  him  the  chance  to 
refuse  a  hand-shake. 

"I  came  to  apologize  to  you,  Mr.  Tescheron," 
I  began.  "It  seems  that  you  can't  take  a  joke 
and  that  you  flew  to  Hoboken — " 

He  reached  into  a  drawer  and  brought  forth  a 
small  photograph  of  Hosley,  which  he  handed  to 
me. 

"Yes,  I  know  you  seemed  to  think  it  was  all 
a  joke,"  he  said.  "But  what  do  you  think  of  that 
picture,  taken  from  the  Rogues'  Gallery? — look 
on  the  back." 

Sure  enough,  it  was  a  familiar  photograph  of 
Hosley,  and  I  knew  the  photographer  who  took 
it.  But  this  picture  was  on  a  small  card  with 
no  photographer's  name  on  it.  It  might  have 
been  cut  down  from  a  larger  photograph.  At  any 
rate,  it  was  the  usual  size  of  the  Rogues'  Gallery 
police  portraits,  and  was  stamped  and  written 
upon  the  back  like  the  official  pictures  of 
criminals.  It  made  Jim  look  like  a  thief,  and 
the  plate  must  have  been  carefully  retouched  to 
order.  You  can  buy  anything  in  New  York, 
thought  I. 


"i  CAME  TO  APOLOGIZE  TO  YOU,  MR.  TESCHERON." — Page  322. 


CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN      323 

"Do  you  believe  that  is  a  real  Rogues'  Gallery 
picture?"  I  asked. 

"Certainly.  Here's  a  dozen  of  'em  from  as 
many  different  cities.  If  you'd  gone  to  the  ex- 
pense I  did  to  get  them,  you  would  think  they 
were  genuine.  Oh,  there's  no  question  about  it. 
Strange,  how  you  could  be  fooled  like  that !  Lived 
with  him  for  ten  years,  didn't  you,  and  all  the 
while  he  was  married  to  that  woman  down-stairs 
and  was  kiting  around  the  country  for  months  at 
a  time,  raising  hell  in  Michigan  and  Arizona  along 
the  Mexican  border.  I  think  he  was  planning  to 
do  away  with  you  the  same  as  he  did  with  her. 
It's  lucky  I  broke  in  when  I  did  and  knocked  his 
little  plans  in  the  head,  so  far  as  my  family  was 
concerned."  The  murder  of  myself,  of  course, 
was  a  small  matter. 

"All  of  these  pictures  are  forgeries,"  I  inter- 
rupted. "The  photographer  where  Hosley  had 
his  picture  taken  probably  has  his  price." 

"What?  You  still  doubt?  Well,  you  are  a 
crazy  man.  That  fellow  Hosley  was  a  great  hyp- 
notizer  of  women  and  weak  men." 

I  did  not  become  angry  at  this  sneer.  No,  I 
was  resolved  to  be  patient.  I  wanted  to  get  him 
in  a  frame  of  mind  where  he  would  turn  on  him- 
self and  say,  "There's  no  fool  like  an  old  fool." 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"This  thing1  was  about  to  come  out  through  the 
coroner's  office,  but  I  settled  as  soon  as  I  read  the 
first  newspaper  item — here  it  is."  He  handed  to 
me  a  clipping  which  Smith  had  used  to  clinch  the 
payment  of  what  he  (Smith)  called  bribe  money. 

"Anybody  could  make  one  of  those  on  a  small 
printing-press  as  easy  as  they  can  make  a  camera 
lie  or  lie  themselves.  That  clipping  was  manu- 
factured, just  as  that  woman  in  the  flat  below  ours 
was  made  to  order."  I  didn't  lose  my  temper  as 
I  made  this  statement. 

"But  the  death  notice  was  in  the  papers  giving 
the  name  and  proper  address.  See,  here  it  is, 
Browning,  and  your  number.  Oh,  you  are  hyp- 
notized yet!" 

I  was  indeed  surprised  at  the  cleverness  with 
which  the  Smith'  conspirators,  including  Obreeon, 
had  planned  to  land  this  big  fish — for  such  he 
truly  was.  He  never  sold  a  bigger  one  than  him- 
self. They  had  worked  in  the  dark  and  could 
fool  him  every  time  by  clouding  his  judgment  with 
fear. 

"You  spoke  of  expense,  Mr.  Tescheron.  Would 
you  mind  telling  me,  to  satisfy  my  curiosity,  just 
how  much  this  thing  has  cost  you?" 

"Why,  you  are  not  thinking  of  paying  it,  are 
you?" 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       325 

"No,  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  cannot,  although 
partly  guilty,  because  I  haven't  so  much  money. 
But  really  I  would  like  to  know.  I  am  amazed  at 
your  gullibility — simply  amazed." 

"Amazed,  eh?  Just  look  at  these  figures  and 
you'll  get  some  idea  of  the  work  we  have  been 
doing  in  this  Hosley  matter."  He  handed  his 
neatly  kept  memorandum,  which  I  scanned  in 
wonder,  and  as  we  went  over  it,  item  by  item,  I 
could  see  the  work  of  craftsmen  shaping  their 
clay.  It  all  figured  up,  including  board  for  his 
family  at  the  Stuffer  House,  th'e  payments  for 
Smith's  expenses  and  services,  and  the  "settlement 
with  Flanagan,"  to  about  $5,000. 

"Mr.  Tescheron,"  said  I,  "take  the  advice  of 
one  who  wishes  you  well.  Do  a  little  investigat- 
ing for  yourself.  I  did  not  notify  the  coroner— 
I  was  only  joking.  Here  is  the  address  of  Col- 
lins; see  him,  and  get  the  particulars  concerning 
the  party  at  our  old  home,  and  then  take  a  run 
up  to  this  place  and  see  what  you  think  of  it." 

I  handed  to  him  the  memorandum  from  Collins 
and  left,  saying: 

"This  is  Wednesday.  Think  it  over  for  a  week 
and  I'll  arrange  to  see  you  next  Wednesday.  Then 
I  shall  expect  to  hear,  if  you  are  not  convinced, 
that  the  sharks  swallowed  you  like  a  porgy." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

\  ^  THEN  I  got  away  from  Mr.  Tescheron 
y  y  that  afternoon,  it  was  after  three 
o'clock,  and  I  had  to  see  Flanagan. 
Luckily  I  found  the  coroner  at  his  office  and 
was  received  by  him  with  that  warmth  of  greet- 
ing and  cordiality  which  springs  from  a  political 
genius,  said  to  be  derived  by  contact  with  the 
Blarney  Stone.  At  any  rate,  it  makes  its  success- 
ful appeal  to  human  nature  and  constitutes  the 
capital  of  Tammany  leaders  holding  their  own 
against  all  reformers  who  fail  to  take  into  ac- 
count the  hearts  of  the  poor.  There  wasn't  any- 
thing in  the  world  he  wouldn't  do  for  me.  You 
may  be  sure  that  Jim  and  I  had  long  ago  changed 
our  politics  enough  to  vote  for  Flanagan,  and  he 
knew  it.  His  handshaking,  sympathetic  attention 
and  practical  philanthropy  kept  him  in  power,  and 
his  record  for  square  dealing  in  and  out  of  office 
placed  him  apart  from  some  of  the  crew  he  trained 
with.  As  another  Irishman,  Mr.  Burke,  has  re- 

326 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN      327 

marked  you  can't  indict  a  nation,  this  countryman 
of  his  proved  to  me  that  it  would  not  be  possible 
to  indict  an  entire  political  organization  outside 
the  broad  scope  of  campaign  oratory. 

I  laid  the  whole  case  before  Honest  Tim 
Flanagan. 

"And  they  were  to  have  been  married  a  week 
from  to-day,  you  say  ?  Whew !  You  come  with 
me  to  see  Tom  Martin ;  he'll  do  anything  I  say." 

It  is  wonderful  how  a  Tammany  Hall  leader 
can  help  pull  a  case  of  complicated  love  out  of 
the  mire  of  despair,  if  the  villainy  runs  counter  to 
the  law. 

Tom  Martin  was  the  captain  in  charge  of  the 
detective  bureau  at  police  headquarters.  If  any- 
body had  suggested  concerning  him  that  it  was 
possible  for  a  Tammany  district  leader  to  obtain 
a  favor  in  that  office  involving  what  might  techni- 
cally be  called  the  compounding  of  a  crime,  Mar- 
tin's icy  official  rejoinder  would  wither  his  antag- 
onist; but  this  ice  could  be  cut  by  certain  men. 
Tim  Flanagan  was  one  of  them.  When  he  and 
Tom  Martin  got  together  on  this  thing  wheels 
within  wheels  began  to  work. 

"Certainly,  Tim,"  said  Captain  Martin.  "We'll 
give  Smith  a  shake-down  right  here.  I  know  him 
well.  He  is  rich  and  will  cough  it  all  up  when 


328      CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

we  put  on  the  screws.  You  and  your  friend  take 
seats.  I'll  have  him  here  in  a  few  minutes.  Say, 
that's  a  lot  of  money,  though — over  five  thousand 
dollars,  you  say  ?" 

I  handed  Tescheron's  exact  figures  to  Captain 
Martin.  We  waited  about  twenty  minutes,  as  I 
recollect,  when  a  Potsdam  giant  from  County  Kil- 
'dare,  the  site  of  extensive  greenhouses  for  the 
raising  of  New  York  cops,  brought  in  the  trem- 
bling Smith.  The  startled  little  rascal  looked  at 
me,  but  did  not  appear  to  recognize  me.  He  had 
been  scared  to  a  point  I  could  see  where  he  would 
give  up  his  last  cent  for  freedom. 

"You're  at  trie  old  game  again,  Smithy,"  said 
Captain  Martin.  "How  much  did  you  get  out  of 
Tescheron?  I  Have  the  figures  here;  just  look  it 
up  and  tell  me — see  if  we  agree." 

Smith  did  not  dodge. 

"About  ten  thousand  dollars,  Stuff er  and  all," 
he  said. 

Stuffer!  Five  thousand  more  than  Tesclieron 
had  admitted  to  me ! 

"How  much  does  trie  interest  amount  to  at  six 
per  cent.?  Just  figure  that  up  on  all  the  pay- 
ments, and  put  in  Stuffer,"  directed  Captain  Mar- 
tin, not  in  the  least  surprised  at  the  admission  of 
another  five  thousand. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN       329 

"You'll  square  me  against  him?"  asked  Smith. 

"Yes;  you  bring  him  here  to-morrow,  and  I'll 
tell  him— see  ?" 

Captain  Martin  had  never  heard  of  Stuffer,  but 
he  played  his  meagre  hand  with  a  winning  bluff. 
The  boundary  line  between  detectivism  and  poker 
is  shadowy. 

"I  meant  to  pay  Stuffer  to-day,"  said  Smith, 
"but  I  guess  he  got  tired  waiting  and  came  to 
you  and  squealed." 

Smith  figured  for  a  few  minutes  with  a  small 
notebook  in  his  left  hand,  and  then  wrote  on  a 
slip  of  paper  the  following  summary : 

Services  and  expenses $2,040.00 

Shifter's  fake  bird  collection 5,000.00 

Fee  to  my  man  for  appraisement  of  birds        50.00 

Payment  for  safe  return 3,000.00 

Interest  on  above  for  two  months  at 

six  per  cent 100.90 


$10,190.90 

i 

Captain  Martin  did  not  approve  the  sum- 
mary. 

"Smith,  don't  try  to  dodge  me,"  said  he,  sternly. 
"Put  that  Obreeon  $1,000  item  on  there,  and  add 


330       CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

the  board  bill  of  the  Tescheron  family  in  Hoboken 
for  six  weeks  at  $63  per  week,  making  $378 — 
add  interest — your  subpoena  servers  kept  them 
over  there  as  your  guests,  remember." 

Smith  did  not  whimper.  He  took  the  paper 
and  in  a  few  minutes  added  $1,391.78,  making  the 
total  $11,582.68. 

I  was  astounded  beyond  measure.  Flanagan's 
eyes  bulged.  Captain  Martin  was  unruffled.  He 
dealt  with  that  sort  of  deviltry  every  day,  and 
read  the  mind  of  Smith  as  if  it  were  a  child's 
primer.  He  gave  the  impression  of  knowing  all 
about  the  mysterious  Stuffer  feature  of  the  case. 
If  the  hotel  proprietor  had  robbed  Mr.  Tescheron, 
I  was  surprised  he  had  not  mentioned  the  matter  to 
me.  He  said  nothing  of  birds.  He  couldn't  have 
eaten  them,  thought  I.  My  curiosity  was  greatly 
aroused. 

"Mr.  Smith,  alias  Mr.  Van  Riper,  alias  Mr. 
Stewart,  what  name  have  you  your  bank  account 
under,  these  days?"  asked  Captain  Martin. 

"Under  the  name  of  William  P.  Smith,  at  the 
Lincoln  Bank."  He  answered  without  hesita- 
ting, being  duly  impressed  by  the  official  atmo- 
sphere of  the  place,  whereas  I  wouldn't  have  had 
the  thing  made  public  by  a  regular  complaint  for 
all  the  world. 


CUPID'S    MIDDLEMAN 

"Got  no  blank  checks  with  you,  I  suppose?" 
asked  the  captain. 

"No,  sir." 

"How  much  of  a  balance  have  you  there?" 

"About  fifteen  thousand  dollars." 

"It's  past  banking  hours  now,  Smithy,  so  I  tell 
you  what  you'll  have  to  do.  Take  these  blank 
checks  here  and  make  out  one  to — " 

"Albert  Tescheron,"  said  I. 

"One  to  Albert  Tescheron  for — let  me  see — for 
$10,572.68,  and  one  to  Benjamin  Hopkins  for 
$  1,010.  You  will  then  have  to  bunk  in  here  to- 
night with  me  until  I  learn  that  these  parties  have 
collected  the  money.  Then  you  can  go,  but  you'll 
have  to  pack  out  of  town  and  stay  out." 

"How  would  the  cash  do,  captain?"  eagerly 
asked  Smith. 

"Got  it  with  you?" 

"I  can  telephone  for  it  and  have  it  here  in 
twenty  minutes." 

"Take  this  'phone  and  do  it.     We'll  wait." 

Enough  greenbacks  and  change  to  make 
$10,572.68  fell  into  Mr.  Tescheron's  hands  with 
a  long  letter  of  explanation  from  me,  as  he  en- 
tered his  home  that  night,  and  I  grasped  $1,010. 

As  to  Flanagan  and  Tom  Martin — did  I  treat? 
Well,  I  guess  so!  Do  you  blame  me? 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  address  on  my  card  brought  Gabrielle 
directly  to  my  rooms,  and  when  I  returned 
I  found  the  lovers  blissfully  united,  after 
only  one  day  of  direst  wretchedness.  They 
rushed  toward  me  as  I  entered  and  doubly  em- 
braced me.  I  was  the  crowned  hero — crowned 
with  more  praise  than  I  could  well  carry. 

"How  happy  you  have  made  us !"  cried  Gabri- 
elle. "You  cruel  joker;  but  we  forgive  you.  Oh, 
you  do  not  know — you  can  never  know  the  service 
you  have  performed  this  day.  Our  lives  would 
have  been  ruined  had  you  not  been  here  to  man- 
age this  affair." 

"Ben,  I  forgive  you  for  writing  those  letters, 
now.  You  are  the  greatest  man  that  ever  lived. 
George  Washington  couldn't  class  with  you,"  said 
Jim. 

"Probably  not,"  said  I.  "I  certainly  told  many 
a  good  lie  when  I  wrote  those  letters.  You  set 
me  on  fire  and  saved  me.  I  have  done  the  same 
for  you." 

332 


Jim  was  radiant  and  rosy  as  in  the  old  days. 
Gabrielle  never  looked  more  beautiful.  .Wasn't  I 
happy ! 

We  talked  it  all  over,  and  I  laid  a  wager  with 
them  both  that  Mr.  Tescheron  would  repent  that 
night  to  Gabrielle  before  she  could  tell  him  of  her 
definite  plans.  I  did  not  tell  them  why  I  thought 
I  was  betting  on  a  sure  thing. 

I  carried  out  telegrams  of  joy  and  summonses 
to  the  Gibsons  and  Hygeia. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  Hosley-Tescheron  wedding  was  the 
happiest  society  event  in  my  life.  Hygeia, 
as  bridesmaid,  dazzled  me  into  forgetful- 
ness  ;  but  I  stood  up  and  did  my  part,  nevertheless, 
with  a  fair  degree  of  precision,  but  might  have 
done  better  had  I  practiced  trying  to  find  a  ring 
in  my  pocket  while  wearing  a  glove.  Mr.  Tesch- 
eron  behaved  admirably.  He  and  his  lordly  son- 
in-law  on  that  day  really  began  to  get  acquainted. 
The  sheepish  look  he  gave  me  at  the  wedding  be- 
trayed that  my  letter  with  the  money  had  happily 
convinced  him,  and  also  his  trip  to  the  little  ceme- 
tery. 

Concerning  Gabrielle  and  Nellie  Gibson,  her 
maid  of  honor,  I  would  need  to  shower  the  techni- 
calities of  a  fashion  journal's  vocabulary  to  pre- 
sent a  picture  of  the  loveliness  wrought  by  mil- 
liners and  dressmakers  from  the  choicest  fabrics 
to  grace  the  slender  figures  of  those  pretty  girls. 
Mrs.  Tescheron's  tears  were  those  of  joy.  My 
joy  was  without  tears,  for  the  occasion  brought  a 
hearty  welcome  to  Hygeia's  Connecticut  home. 

334 


CUPID'S  MIDDLEMAN 

Jim  Hosley  and  I  are  associated  to-day  in  the 
management  of  one  of  the  largest  industries  re- 
habilitated by  that  great  executive,  John  MacDon- 
ald,  with  whom  we  are  on  terms  of  close  intimacy. 
We  are  surprised  at  the  changes  that  have  come 
in  a  few  years,  and  as  we  look  back,  we  often 
wonder  if  the  folly  of  those  bachelor  days  was  not 
after  all  profitable.  Mr.  Tescheron  has  lived  long- 
enough  to  believe  it  was.  To-day  he  is  a  charm- 
ing father-in-law  and  grandpa,  with  an  improved 
sense  of  humor  which  has  robbed  him  of  his  keen 
interest  in  ornithology,  for  I  heard  him  say  he 
wished  the  Stukeville  collection  would  burn  up. 

As  for  myself,  I  am  not  willing  to  intrude  my 
family  affairs  here  beyond  the  statement  that  my 
days  of  gloom  are  over.  I  ceased  to  try,  and — 
but  as  I  wanted  to  add,  Gabrielle  is  clever  at  house- 
keeping along  the  most  approved  scientific  lines. 
Cooking  she  regards  as  a  form  of  chemistry,  and 
she  keeps  scales  in  her  kitchen  to  save  good  dishes 
from  disaster  due  to  the  reckless  "pinch  of  this 
and  pinch  of  that"  system.  What  a  contrast  with 
Jim's  system  of  frying  eggs !  And  the  marvel  of 
it  is,  that,  in  spite  of  this  hospital-like  regularity 
and  method,  her  little  dinners  at  her  beautiful 
home  in  our  modd  industrial  community  are 
amazingly  gratifying — solid  in  breadth  and  founr 


336      CUPID'S   MIDDLEMAN 

elation,  and  alluringly  decorated  with  the  orna- 
mental bisque  concealments  founded  on  the  froth 
and  frosting  of  beaten  egg  and  whipped  cream. 
My  experience  as  a  housekeeper  helps  me  to  ap- 
preciate fine  work  in  this  department  of  life.  I 
should  say  that  an  epicure  would  make  no  mistake 
in  marrying  a  woman  lawyer. 

The  one  hundred  and  sixty-two  letters  and  fit- 
ments I  have  preserved  in  a  leather-bound  scrap- 
book.  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea  what  they 
would  be  worth  in  the  literary  market,  but  I  do 
know  they  brought  us  much  joy  and  sorrow,  and 
I  would  not  part  with  these  flowery  souvenirs  of 
the  days  of  youth  when  all  jokes  seemed  legiti- 
mate. They  contained  more  poetry  than  truth,  I 
fear;  but  like  good  fiction,  they  brought  me  face 
to  face  with  some  of  the  most  interesting  phases 
of  life. 

OH,  I  forgot  to  a'dd  th'at  Gabrielle's  beautiful 
home  was  the  father's  gift  to  the  bride,  estimated 
to  cost  just  $10,572.68,  but  I  know  there  were 
many  "extras."  Was  Gabrielle  surprised  at  this? 
Why,  she  thinks  I  am  a  wonderfully  fine  fellow, 
and  so  does  Jim. 

What  does  Hygeia  think? 

[Well — ahem ! 

THE  END 


000  045  701     0 


